


Clarity

by sourwulfur



Series: Clarity [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Allison is an adopted Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Argents leading antiwerewolf laws, Beta!Lydia, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood, Branding, Bruises, But it's there, Cora and Derek are Twins, F/F, F/M, Humans vs. Werewolves, Injury, M/M, Mild torture, There will be violence, Torture, Violence, beta!Allison, beta!Danny, humans just try to make it that way, it is a war okay, lots of injuries, nothing too graphic, only not really, werewolves are lesser
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwulfur/pseuds/sourwulfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski's senior year, the high school that housed the werewolf students closes, and the students have to be integrated into the public high school. The country is trying to make humans and werewolves more equal, but there are some, like the politician Victoria Argent, who believe this needs to be changed. In a world where even friendships between humans and werewolves is rare, Stiles Stilinski finds himself in a struggle that could cost him his life. Derek Hale is worth it, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arc I, One: First Day of School

**Author's Note:**

>   
>   
> [Clarity - Sam Tsui & Kurt Schneider Cover](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1a4uZA58nY)   
> 

Senior year. Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall were excited, all smiles as they piled into Stiles' Jeep on that first day. It was the first day that the two of them would actually be in school together since before they became step-brothers. The two schools were merging together that year, something about funding or lack of teachers (Stiles did not really pay attention; all that mattered was he and Scott were in school together again). “It'll be like old times, only... no recess,” Stiles said with a grin and a chuckle as he turned onto the two-lane road that led straight up to the school parking lot.

 

“It'll be better, though!” Scott insisted with a nod as he practically bounced in the passenger seat, grinning over at his best friend. “It's senior year, man.”

 

“Did they tell you we have to share lockers?” Stiles pulled a face at the idea as he pulled into his usual parking space. Scott seemed slightly confused and Stiles shrugged before explaining, “We don't have enough lockers for everyone. We barely had enough _before_ the schools merged. So, now we have to share.”

 

“Oh! Yeah, that makes sense. D'you know who your locker partner is? Is it me? I hope it's me.”

 

Stiles chuckled at Scott's energetic rambling (maybe sugary cereal _and_ coffee was a bad idea) that was typically more common in himself than his step-brother while they climbed out of the Jeep. “Uhm, I think the paper said D. Hale? I’m not sure, though. I dunno who that is.”

 

Scott nodded a little, seeming slightly put-out that he and Stiles would not be locker partners. Stiles rolled his eyes fondly at his brother and nudged the other teen. “Derek's kind of a jerk,” Scott explained as they made their way into the building. “He can be cool and all, but sometimes he just gets this attitude that makes you wanna knock the smirk off of his face. Not all that different from you, actually.”

 

“Hey! I’m not sure if I should take offense to that or not.” Stiles glared at Scott anyway as they walked toward their lockers, only then finding out that even though they were not sharing a locker, their lockers were side-by-side. “Oh, cool! Now I can steal your Pringles easier.”

 

“Dude, no. Mine. Back off.” Scott narrowed his eyes a little at Stiles as he opened his locker to find that half of it was already decorated, obviously by someone either more feminine or a girl. Scott's head tipped slightly to the right as he noticed a picture pinned up on the inside of the door of himself and his girlfriend, Allison. After a moment, a bright smile formed on his features as he said, “Dude, I think I’m sharing with Allison.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes fondly at the other teen, smiling as he shoved his extra notebooks and pens into the empty shelf of the locker he was using. The high shelf already held some notebooks and writing utensils, as well as a scientific calculator and a binder. There was really nothing too distinguishing about the person he was sharing with besides the newspaper clipping from the year before about Derek Hale helping his school's basketball team win their division's tournament. Stiles smiled a little to himself before he took a picture out of his backpack to stick to the door with a magnet. It was a picture of himself, Scott, Melissa (Scott's mother), and John (Stiles' dad) on their parents wedding day. They were all dressed up, smiling and laughing in the photo. Even the slight lens flare from Scott's squinted eyes did not ruin the photo.

 

He turned to say something to Scott, but he noticed the dopey smile that crossed his best friend's face before Scott looked toward the double doors at the end of the hall. That was all Stiles needed to see to know that Allison was almost there. Sure enough, a few moments later, Allison came into the hallway, flanked by two people that Stiles did not recognize. Scott straightened up a little more and walked over to his girlfriend, meeting her half-way down the hall. Stiles did not hear what Scott said to the other two teens, but they both nodded, and the girl squeezed Scott's arm before she strode farther down the hall and past Stiles. The teen then made sure he put up everything but one notebook and one pen, which he would need for his first class (Advanced Chem with Harris). Then, he picked up his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder only to freeze for a moment when he felt it hit someone, and he quickly spun around to face the person with an apology that died when he found himself face-to-face with the guy that had walked in with Allison. He had a slightly amused smirk on his face and Stiles laughed slightly as he said, “Oops, sorry. Didn't realize anyone was there.”

 

The other teen laughed with a smile, before pointing over Stiles' shoulder at the locker. “Are you finished? I kind of need my things,” Derek stated.

 

“Oh, right! Yeah, sorry,” replied Stiles before he stepped aside so that Derek could step forward and grab one of the notebooks that had been in there when Stiles opened the locker earlier. “I'm Stiles, by the way.”

 

“Derek.”

 

“I know.” Stiles mentally face-palmed after the words slipped out and Derek’s brow lifted in slight surprised, an amused smirk on his face. “I mean, I actually paid attention to my locker assignment, unlike some people.” Stiles gestured over his shoulder toward where Allison and Scott stood talking. “He had all summer to know that he'd be sharing with Allison but did not know until he got here and found the photo.”

 

Derek seemed to be unsure what to say to that, so he remained quiet as he shut their shared locker, spinning the dial of the lock once to make sure it was closed. He was not used to _humans_ speaking to him so freely and it honestly set him on edge a little. It was... nice, though. He had heard Scott talk about his human brother several times, so a part of him had known that whoever the guy was had to at least be _tolerant_ of werewolves; but, there was a difference between being tolerant and being friendly. Stiles definitely seemed to fall more on the friendly side. It was just slightly unnerving.

 

The bell rang just as Allison and Scott finally made their way toward their still-open locker and Stiles smiled at Derek. “See ya around, then,” Stiles stated, waving a little before turning to kick Scott in the shin, earning himself a non-heated glare from the other teen. “Gotta deal with Harris. See you in English?”

 

Scott nodded and Allison greeted Stiles, who returned the greeting with a smile, before Stiles went off toward the chemistry classroom. He may have, somehow, gotten into the advanced class (which Harris was very picky about the students he let in there), but he had no doubts the man would still find reasons to pick on him. Being late on the first day was not in Stiles' agenda. He dropped down onto one of the two empty stools at the second station back on the right once he got in the room, the station he had used throughout high school to date. There were several familiar faces (such as Lydia Martin, who had to transfer to the other school their freshman year), Isaac Lahey, and Jackson Whittemore. The only thing that surprised him about them being in there was that Isaac and Jackson were sitting at the same station. There was a good distance between them, and Isaac seemed to want to try to disappear, but still. Isaac was not Danny, and therefore not someone that Stiles ever expected Jackson to sit with.

 

Just as the tardy bell rang, another student came in, and Stiles looked from his other classmates to the new entrant. He smiled with a soft, slightly surprised laugh to find that it was none other than Derek Hale. “Looks like you're stuck with Stilinski, Mr. Hale,” their teacher, Mr. Harris said as he came into the classroom, shutting the door after him. “I apologize, but please take a seat.”

 

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table as Derek came over to sit on the empty stool at the station while Mr. Harris started talking about the class syllabus and what the year would consist of. Stiles stopped listening about half-way through, doodling on the edges of the papers instead. It was much more interesting drawing random, swirling designs in the blank parts of the boring and repetitive syllabus that was just like every one he had gotten every year before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur of information that Stiles did not remember, nor did he care to. He would learn everything throughout the year, anyway so what did it matter? Lunch, however, was an experience to remember. Stiles sort of paused near the doorway as he looked around the cafeteria to find that the students were basically separated off. All of the human students sat to one side, the werewolves to the other. There were several glares and looks of contempt from either side. Once again, Jackson sat next to Isaac (Stiles would have to pry into that later), and Scott sat at a table with Derek, the girl from that morning, Allison, Lydia, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, and some other werewolves that Stiles did not know.

 

Stiles honestly had no idea where he should sit. There was a definite line between the two groups, but Stiles had friends on either side. Isaac smiled shyly at him from his spot next to Jackson, and Scott grinned brightly at him with a wave. Stiles let out a heavy breath as he tried to decide which side would be better. Either way, someone's feelings were going to be hurt; though, Stiles had a feeling Isaac wanted to sit with Scott as well. After all, the three of them were really good friends. There were several of the students he had gone to school with forever watching him, some with glares on their faces, as if daring him to sit anywhere but with them.

 

That, honestly, was all it took for Stiles to make up his mind. He lifted his head slightly in defiance before walking over to the table that Scott sat at, sitting on the empty chair between Scott and Derek, who was wrapped up in a conversation with one of the guys that Stiles did not know (though he thought he heard someone say the guy's name was Ethan). Stiles was not oblivious to the murmurs that resulted from his action, though he pretended not to hear while talking with Allison and Scott about a movie that the three of them had seen the other night.

 

Stiles idly started bouncing his knee as they spoke, poking moodily at the lunch that Melissa had packed for him sometime that morning before she went to the hospital. Stiles had insisted she did not need to do things like that; but, she insisted it was the only way she knew her boys were at least attempting to eat healthily, and with the smile she had given him, Stiles had been unable to refuse. He did not even realize that he was bouncing his knee until he felt someone place a firm hand on it to get him to stop, and he glanced over to Derek, who smirked slightly at him. “Relax,” the other teen stated, smiling a little more when Stiles let out a breathy laugh in response.

 

“Relax? I’m totally relaxed,” replied Stiles with a few nods. “Cool, calm, and collected; that's me.”

 

“Your heart's racing.” Derek arched an eyebrow slightly, that amused smirk tugging on his lips once again and Stiles let out a rush of air before he laughed softly again.

 

“Yeah, well, I dunno. Kinda hard to relax when people keep glaring at me like I stole Christmas.” Stiles lifted his shoulders in a shrug as Derek pulled his hand away, something that Stiles wished he did not do. Which, was an odd thing in itself. Stiles was not a very touchy person, especially when it came to someone he did not know. He had no problem snuggling up to Scott or Isaac, someone he was _close_ to; but, he did not even shake hands with people he did not know. Stiles was never quite sure why; but, just the idea of touching a stranger nearly had him squirming in his seat.

 

“They'll get over it,” Derek insisted with a nod before his attention returned to the girl sitting on his other side. Her name was Cora, Stiles had learned, and she was Derek’s twin sister.

 

The next few classes after lunch were so uneventful and boring, Stiles almost fell asleep in history. Once that class was over, Stiles made his way toward the art classroom, the only class he was going to have without Scott, Isaac, or Derek in it with him. He was almost there when another student came up behind him near the small set of stairs that stopped right next to the art room door, not that he was aware because he was texting on his phone, and suddenly he found himself being _shoved_ forward, hard from behind. He did not even have time to gasp before he was falling down the few stairs, landing heavily at the bottom with his head smacking hard off the tile of the floor. “Be mindful of who you sit with, Stilinski,” Stiles thought he heard someone say from above him, but the room was spinning too much for him to really focus on what was going on.

 

Stiles was vaguely aware of the sound of a teacher asking what was going on and the sounds of several students disappearing before there was a shout of someone needing an ambulance. Who needed one? Was it him? Stiles tried to ask, but the words did not seem to want to come out. He felt sick to his stomach and groaned when someone moved him. The brightness of the hall made his head hurt, and he felt really tired. “Stiles? Stiles, keep your eyes open, sweetie,” his art teacher, Miss Penny said somewhere near-by.

 

He tried to listen, he wanted to listen because he knew that Miss Penny never steered him wrong. However, the need and want for sleep made his eyes heavy, and he could not keep himself awake any longer.

 

When he started to regain his focus, he felt cold and itchy, but that could have just been whatever blanket was draped over him. He did not like it. It was not his bedding. There was some kind of beeping somewhere in the background, and it took Stiles a few moments longer to realize it was a heart monitor. Hospital; the word came crashing into his consciousness. He was in the hospital, and the realization made his eyes snap open and he sat up quickly, which only caused his head to pound and the room to spin around him. “Whoa, sweetheart, lay back down,” Melissa said as she rushed over to his side from where she had been standing near the door. She carefully helped the teen lay back on the bed, groaning as he moved. “No sudden movements, kiddo. You gave us all quite a scare there.”

 

Stiles nodded faintly, wincing a little as he wet his lips. His mouth and throat felt dry and he could not find it in him to speak just yet. Melissa got him a small cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, using a bendy straw to help him drink some.”There ya go,” she said with a kind smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair in a soothing manner, avoiding the knot on his head as she did. “Feel any better?”

 

“A little,” Stiles replied in a scratchy voice. “What happened?”

 

Melissa laughed softly with a shake of her head and a faint smile. “They said you tripped on your shoelaces at the top of the stairs. You couldn't get your footing and hit your head. If you'd landed differently, you would have been fine.”

 

Stiles' brow furrowed as she spoke and he tried to piece that into what he remembered. It did not make sense. He could _clearly_ feel two hands pressing on his back, and he heard the faint echo of someone speaking to him. The teen shook his head after a moment, wetting his lips once again as he looked to his step-mother. “Someone pushed me.”

 

The laughter left Melissa’s face immediately as she watched Stiles, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. That could not be right. Someone pushing Stiles meant that it was not an accident. That meant someone had tried to hurt one of her boys. She lifted a slightly shaky hand to run through her curly hair before taking a deep breath. “I should... I should get your father in here. Stiles, who would try to hurt you?”

 

The thing was that Stiles could not figure out who had pushed him; he just knew that _someone_ had, and that was the worst part. “I don't know.”


	2. Arc I, Two: Stiles' Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles returns to school, Lydia Martin is stood up to, and a pack meeting is called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Stiles was out of school for the rest of the week, much to his aggravation. He really wanted to go to school the day after he fell, but since he'd suffered a mild concussion, his doctor _and_ Melissa refused. He spent only one night in the hospital but spent the rest of that week at home. Scott brought him his homework; and, both Allison and Isaac came by several times just to see him. Isaac was fairly subdued each time and he steered the conversation away from Jackson each time that Stiles tried to ask about what was going on between them. “Just be careful, Stiles,” Isaac had said quietly as he hugged his friend tightly before he went home that first afternoon that he visited.

 

There was not much of an investigation what had happened to Stiles; after all, there were no witnesses, and Stiles could not even say who had been the one to push him. The official story was that Stiles simply tripped; John thought that by not giving the person who pushed Stiles attention that something like that would not happen again. Stiles hoped so, anyway. He had several bad dreams with a dark-sounding voice telling him to mind who he sat with, but that was not going to be enough to make the teen just stop spending time with his brother and friends. So what if some people were narrow-minded assholes?

 

Stiles brow rose a little when, upon arrival at the school, Scott was suddenly directly at his side, glancing around them every so often as if searching for a sign of a threat. “Dude,” Stiles said with a sigh as they walked in the front doors. “I don't need a guard.” He rolled his eyes fondly at Scott, pushing his brother away slightly while they walked toward their lockers. “Go get your shit and find Allison. I know you wanna.”

 

“I can talk to Allison whenever,” Scott reminded Stiles with a pointed look, making the other teen roll his eyes once again.

 

“You can talk to me whenever, too, dude. We _live in the same house_ , in case you've forgotten.” Stiles chuckled a little before gently nudging Scott with his elbow. “ _Go_ , I’m fine.”

 

Scott looked unsure for another few moments, but eventually, he rushed off through the halls to find his girlfriend, who was on the other side of the school with her adopted sister, Cora. Stiles let out a soft sigh and took his head, glad for the first moment he got alone in _days_. It only lasted a few moments as he neared his locker when he heard someone a short distance behind him say, “Hey, Stilinski, you're back.”

 

Stiles turned to see Derek Hale walking his direction, idly spinning a basketball in his hands. Stiles smiled a little and nodded as he shifted his backpack on his shoulder and they both started to continue the walk toward their locker. “Yeah, finally,” he said with a sigh. “I was about to go crazy at the house. I mean, I love my family and everything but I couldn't even get two minutes alone.”

 

“What happened, anyway?” Derek asked with a faint frown on his face as they stopped at the locker and Stiles put up the many books that had been delivered to him throughout the previous week that he would not need for his first class.

 

“I, uh, tripped... clumsy like that.” Stiles lifted his shoulder in a shrug, pointedly not looking at Derek so that he could not see the expression on the other teen's face. He _knew_ that Derek could hear the lie in his words. He just did not want to talk about it.

 

Derek frowned faintly once again, but did not press for answers. Instead, he just reached around Stiles to place the basketball on his shelf, grabbing his chemistry textbook. Stiles froze in place slightly as Derek grabbed his things, only turning to face the other teen when Derek took another step back from him. “Well, I’m glad you're okay.”

 

Stiles smiled a little as he shut their locker with a slight nod. “Yeah, well, it takes more than a slight trip down the stairs to get me down for the count,” Stiles replied as the two of them started to walk toward the chemistry classroom. They were about half-way there, Stiles pointedly ignoring some of the harsh glares from his human classmates that followed him throughout the halls (especially from Jackson and his little gang of friends; except Isaac, who smiled brightly at him with a wave that he returned), when Lydia Martin appeared seemingly out of nowhere, pushing her way between the slight distance between Stiles and Derek as she grabbed the later teen's arm, tugging him a little.

 

“C'mon, Derek. We'll get you a better lab partner today than _him_ ,” she said with a slight sneer on her face that she had been known to have whenever talking to Stiles or one of the human students.

 

“You know, you're acting just like them, Lydia,” Stiles stated with a scowl of his own, making her freeze in her steps and look at him with a slight glare while Derek just watched him with an expression that was equal parts amused and surprised.

 

“Excuse me?” she replied, her brow furrowing as she looked to the pale teen with frown folding her lips.

 

“You heard me.” Stiles watched her for a moment, his own brow furrowed as he studied her for a moment before he gestured back down the hallway where Jackson was still leaning against his lockers. “Them. You speak to me and every human in this school as if we're beneath you, but you expect them to respect you. It's a two way street, sweetheart.”

 

Lydia pursed her lips as she studied Stiles for another moment. A slight smirk tugged on her lips after a moment and she reached out to adjust Stiles' backpack straps on his shoulders. “You've got me all wrong, Stiles. I speak to everyone that way. Let's go.” With that, she turned to walk toward the chemistry classroom again, her hair slipping back off of her shoulder as she strode forward determinedly.

 

Derek chuckled a little as Stiles simply stood there in slight shock for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. “I think she likes you,” Derek stated, nudging Stiles' shoulder gently. “C'mon, we should follow her before she gets annoyed.” He still could not believe that Stiles Stilinski stood up to _Lydia Martin_. There were not many people brave enough to do that, werewolf or not.

 

Stiles let out a slightly shocked laugh, as if he could not really believe his own actions as they started to follow Lydia to the classroom. “That's like? It felt more like intimidation,” he replied as they walked into Harris' room. She gave them each a pointed look as they walked in before she glanced over to the station they had shared on the first day, as if demanding they both sit there. Stiles' brow lifted in surprise in confusion but neither teen asked as they took their seats just before Mr. Harris walked in.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles was making his way to the cafeteria for lunch when someone stopped him by placing a gentle hand on his arm and Stiles turned to see Isaac standing there. Stiles smiled at his friend and laughed softly as he said, “What's up, dude?”

 

“Sit with me outside?” Isaac asked quietly, almost nervously. Stiles hated seeing his friend act like that, and he had a feeling he knew _why_ the curly-haired teen did; but, there was nothing he could do without proof of it.

 

After a moment of thought, Stiles nodded with a smile before jerking his head back toward the double doors at the end of the hallway. “Yeah, c'mon,” he replied before they made their way outside where there were several unoccupied picnic tables for students to use on nice days. No one used them anymore, however; everyone was too busy playing standoff in the cafeteria. “So, you and Jackson, huh?”

 

“It's... complicated,” Isaac responded as he pulled his lunch out of a small paper sack after they sat down, Stiles doing the same. “He's not... always an asshole. S'just... a mask. He's scared.”

 

“Yeah, I figured. I mean... I can remember being friends with him in elementary.” Stiles nodded a little as he opened his bottle of Cherry Coke. “S'long as he's good to you, and you're happy, I think it's fine.”

 

“He is. He, uh... he gives me a place to stay when dad drinks too much.” Isaac nodded a little, picking at the sandwich that he'd gotten out of his bag, not looking up at Stiles. “That's kind of how this whole thing started over the summer. I... didn't expect it, but s'nice. I really like him. Not... not him,” Isaac gestured toward the school, “but _him_ , the real him.”

 

Stiles nodded a little in understanding, opening his bag of chips before offering some to Isaac. “Yeah, I understand that.” Isaac mumbled a thanks after grabbing a couple chips and then Stiles grabbed some for himself. “Did you see that stupid debate with Victoria Argent last night?”

 

Isaac pulled a face at the memory but nodded a little with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, and what's worse is I heard they're actually _voting_ on a law that requires all werewolves to be registered and monitored closely for their actions from _birth_. It's like a registry of offenders, but they don't even have had to have done something wrong.”

 

“S'bullshit,” Stiles mumbled with a shake of his head before taking a drink of his soda.

 

The two of them spent the rest of their lunch period discussing the potential changes in the government that neither one of them agreed with. It was scary, in Stiles' opinion, to realize how close they were to a complete and total segregation of races. It was unfair, in his opinion, but he was just a teenager. People were not likely to listen to him. However, there were still adults out there who shared his point of view. The only problem was whether or not there were enough of them to vote against policies like the ones that Victoria Argent had been attempting to filter into their government for years.

 

After lunch, Stiles once again found himself being very bored in his classes. He nearly fell asleep in history once again; only Derek throwing wadded up papers at the back of his head kept him awake. Though he was thankful for it, he still turned in his seat and narrowed his eyes at Derek each time. The basketball players simply smirked in response every time. “Jerk,” Stiles finally said to him as they left the classroom to walk to their locker. Stiles wanted to grab everything he would need to take home so that he could just take it to art with him, his last class of the day. “See ya later,” he said after he got his things, moving out of the way so that Derek could get what he needed, waving as he started to walk off.

 

“Stiles, sweetheart, you're back!” Miss Penny said with a bright smile when the teen came into the classroom a few minutes later. She had her platinum blonde hair twisted up into various knots on top of her head, kept in place with brightly colored pins and elastics that matched her outfit of the day. She practically jumped up from her desk and went over to hug her favorite student tightly. Of course, he was more than just a student to him; Penny was his godmother, after all, having been his mother's best friend when she was still alive. She'd been maid of honor at Melissa and John's wedding and had a standing invitation to every family gathering at the Stilinski-McCall family gatherings.

 

Stiles chuckled a little and returned the hug before she finally pulled away, ruffling his hair fondly. “Yep, and 've got those sketch assignments for you,” he replied, dropping his backpack onto one of the empty tables before digging out his sketchbook to give to her to check over.

 

“Good, good. Stiles, you can go ahead and grab your syllabus out of your cubby in the back and start the first assignment sheet,” Miss Penny explained to the teen before taking the sketchbook over to her desk, setting it down. She waited until the bell rang to face the other students sitting in the class, including Lydia, Cora, Danny, Ethan, Jackson, and several freshmen, a bright smile on her face. “Alright, guys, we're going to continue our lesson on landscapes. Now, perspective is a bi--”

 

“Why's Stilinski doing whatever he wants?” Jackson interrupted from where he sat low in one of the chairs near the back of the room while Stiles read over his assignment sheet at the shelf that held all the art students' plastic tubs for their personal art supplies.

 

Stiles ignored Jackson with a soft sigh as he walked to the back shelf to grab the thick, almost card-stock like paper and watercolors that he needed. Miss Penny just smiled as she grabbed her favorite hot pink dry erase marker while standing up by the black dry erase board that spread across the width of the front wall. “Stiles is not in Art I, Jackson,” their teacher explained. “He's independent study in Art IV, as well as being my teacher's aid this hour.”

 

When several of the students, mostly the freshman, looked back toward him, Stiles simply raised his hand with a slight wave from where he was sitting at one of the back tables, bent over slightly as he lightly drew the base of his watercolor painting with a fine tipped pencil that did not draw very dark at all before focusing on his own assignment once again. Jackson scowled slightly but said nothing else as everyone faced forward again. “Now, as I was saying,” Miss Penny said as she turned to start writing on the board. “Perspective! It's very important in getting your landscapes to appear as they should.”

 

The class period seemed to fly by in Stiles' opinion, and soon enough the bell was ringing, just after Stiles hung his half-finished painting up on the clothesline that hung along the left wall to dry. “That's a great start, Stiles,” Miss Penny said from her desk, where she was gathering everything that she would need to take home that afternoon. She would hang around for a while, go bother the psychology teacher, who was one of her best friends, and then eventually head home.

 

“Thanks,” the teen replied with a smile as he finished gathering his things, glad that all the other students had already left. “I'll see you tomorrow, Pen. Oh! Melissa’s making enchiladas Friday night, if you wanna join.”

 

“Heck, yes, I wanna join! Her enchiladas are to die for.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes fondly with a smile and a laugh before he left the classroom so that he could head out to his Jeep to wait for Scott, who was most likely with Allison, milking the time that he got with her. When he got to the car, however, he found his brother standing there with Allison, both of them looking a little worried. Stiles' brow furrowed as he looked between the two of them as he said, “What is it?”

 

“We've got to go to the Hale House,” Scott explained quietly, wetting his lips absentmindedly. “Pack meeting. I’ll be home late.”

 

Stiles nodded a little, looking over to where Cora and Derek were talking quietly with solemn expressions on their faces next to the car that the Hale siblings, and Allison, shared. “Yeah, alright, I’ll tell Dad and Melissa.” Stiles nodded a little again. He was used to Scott running off to pack meetings randomly after the Hale Pack took him in (much like they had Lydia, the twins, and Danny); but, something seemed different about this one. Scott was not smiling or excited about a run in the woods. Something was going on and Stiles wanted to know what it is.

 

“Be safe.” Scott shot a pointed look to Stiles, who nodded in response before he got into his Jeep while Allison and Scott went over to where the Hale twins were waiting. They still had to go by the junior high and the elementary school to pick up some of the younger ones (Stiles never did understand how so many of them fit into that car) before heading out to the Hale House. Stiles watched them for a moment before he started the Jeep and took himself home.

 

When Stiles got home, both his father and Melissa were back from their shifts at work, and Stiles found them in the kitchen. The sheriff was making dinner while Melissa sat at the table, talking about her day at work. “Stiles? Where's Scott?” Melissa asked, breaking off from her previous conversation with a furrowed brow when she spotted her step-son in the kitchen doorway.

 

“Emergency pack meeting,” Stiles explained as he walked over to set his backpack on the ground next to one of the chairs and sit down. “Scott said he'll be late. I think something's wrong.”


	3. Arc I, Three: Dangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peak into a morning with Jackson and Isaac; also, Stiles finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. WARNING: ALLUSIONS TO ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

“Scott didn't come home,” Stiles said the following morning at breakfast. He bounced his knee as he idly twisted one of the napkins off the table to the point that it nearly ripped. Melissa sighed faintly and reached over to take the paper from the teen while John worked on making dinner for the three of them. “He _always_ comes home.”

 

Stiles knew that his parents were aware of the fact that Scott had stayed over at the Hale House the evening before, but it did not change the facts that he was stating. Scott _did_ always come home directly after pack meetings. He would crawl into Stiles' bed and wake his brother up to tell the other teen all about them. Stiles did not like the fact that Scott had not come home. It could not mean anything good; Stiles just knew it. He did not sit still all through breakfast, something Melissa noted quietly to John after the teen left the house for the day as the sheriff ran a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh.

 

Stiles drove a little faster to school than he would most mornings. He scowled a little when he got to the school, only to find that the Hales were not there yet. With a sigh, Stiles went into the school and put his homework from the night before into his locker, most of his attention down the hallway, where Jackson’s lackeys were milling about, looking lost and confused as Jackson was nowhere to be seen. Stiles' brow furrowed a little as he stood up straighter and looked more intently at the students in the hall. Jackson really was not around, which was so very unusual. Jackson was often one of the first students there, if only to mock the other students as they arrived.

 

Isaac was not there, either, Stiles realized once a few more minutes had gone by. The teen crossed his arms over his chest and slowly made his way toward the chemistry classroom just before the bell rang to signal that they were needed to go to class. None of the missing teens had shown up by the time Stiles took his seat; but, a few moments later, Lydia and Derek came into the classroom. They looked tired but healthy as they took their seats just before the tardy bell rang. Derek did not even so much as glance in Stiles' direction, so the teen did not bother trying to ask the other teen about the pack meeting the evening before. Jackson never did show up, but Stiles was not so worried about that. Knowing Jackson, his parents were probably just spoiling him with some surprise trip to Los Angeles or something.

 

The lesson that day could not hold Stiles' attention for a moment. He kept glancing at the clock, bouncing his knee with his foot on the bottom rung of his stool, tapping his fingers or toying with his pen as the time inched by. Half-way through the lesson, Stiles thought Derek glanced in his direction for a moment with a scowl and highly annoyed expression. However, Stiles did not look back at the other teen, as it could have merely been his imagination.

 

As soon as the bell to signal the end of class rang, Stiles jumped up and grabbed his things before rushing out of the classroom to go find Scott. He only made it a few hundred yards before he practically ran straight into his best friend, who tugged him immediately into one of the nearby classrooms that were not used that semester. “What is going _on_ , Scott?” Stiles asked with a frown as he watched the other teen pacing the room, running both hands through his already unruly hair.

 

“It's bad, Stiles,” Scott said exasperatedly. “I mean, _bad_. This is _so_ bad.”

 

“ _What_ is?” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, pushing aside his want to reach out and just grab Scott's shoulders to focus him and get him to answer. The last time Stiles had done that, Scott had (accidentally and instinctively) nearly broken Stiles' arm with a move that removed the teen's hands from his shoulders. Never again, Stiles had sworn to himself; not that Scott would really let it happen again.

 

Scott let out a heavy breath as he looked toward his brother, trying to figure out the best way to explain to Stiles what was going on with revealing things that he promised not to reveal. He would rather not get on Talia Hale's bad side, thank you. “I can't... fully explain,” Scott replied with a slight pout and a furrowed brow. He hated keeping things from Stiles; it was something he avoided having to do at all costs. “Just... Stiles, you _need_ to be careful, okay? Things are... shifting and it's not exactly in a positive light.”

 

Stiles sighed heavily and rolled his eyes (hard enough that Scott could have _sworn_ his best friend was secretly a Hale). “That's not exactly informative, Scotty,” Stiles stated with a shake of his head, reaching up to tug on his backpack strap so that it sat better on his shoulder. “Just... tell me what's going on at home.”

 

“Where's Jackson?” Scott asked mid-nod, stopping the action with a slight tip of his head to one side, as if he had heard something in the hallway that had confused him. It probably had, Stiles guessed, since his best friend could hear those types of things, after all.

 

“Dunno; don't care.” Stiles lifted his shoulders in a shrug, though the talk of Jackson did make Stiles remember that Isaac was not there, either. Now, _that_ was something that worried him. Stiles wet his lips and quickly took a moment to text his friend, asking him if everything was alright. He received a typical answer of being fine but sick with a disappointed looking smiley. Placated, Stiles left the classroom at Scott's side so that they could both head to English, which they ended up being late for.

 

Meanwhile, across town, Jackson sighed heavily as he set Isaac’s phone aside, having responded to Stiles' text when it had caused the other teen's phone to vibrate on the bedside table. Isaac was still asleep, and Jackson did not want to wake him but he had known that if he did not respond to Stilinski, Stiles would come looking for Isaac. Jackson was fairly sure that the curly-haired teen did not want _anyone_ going over to his house anytime in the near future.

 

He glanced over at Isaac, scowling when he could clearly see the bruising on the other teen's slightly swollen face. He could clearly remember the night over the summer in which he had been wandering aimlessly around town, bottle of whiskey in his hand, and he practically ran right into Isaac, who was attempting to find a place to sleep for the night. His lip had been split and Jackson had _hurt_ to see his classmate flinch away from him after Isaac had noticed the alcohol in his hand. Jackson had sobered up rather quickly after that, and though he had ignored the growing signs of what was going on at the Laheys throughout the years up until that moment, he made Isaac come to his house to spend a few days until the other teen had felt comfortable enough to go home.

 

Jackson sighed inaudibly and started to get up so that he could go downstairs and start some coffee, only to stop when he heard Isaac shifting on the bed behind him before the other teen mumbled, “Jack?”

 

“Yeah, s'me,” Jackson replied quietly as he turned on the bed to face Isaac more, placing a hand on the other teen's arm with a gentle squeeze. “Was gonna go make some coffee.”

 

“Stay.”

 

Jackson idly wet his lips as he watched Isaac for a moment before he moved enough to lay down behind the other boy, draping one arm over Isaac’s middle. Their fingers immediately tangled together, resting against Isaac’s stomach where the t-shirt he wore had ridden up. Jackson was not entirely sure how they had gotten from Isaac's nightmare-filled nights of sleeping on the couch (Jackson could still practically hear his screams at times) to snuggling on Jackson’s bed; but, if he was completely honest, Jackson did not mind the change at all. He liked having Isaac close, knowing that no one was going to hurt the other boy if Isaac was in his arms. Jackson rested his chin on Isaac’s shoulder and the slightly younger of the two teens smiled to himself as he gently squeezed Jackson’s hand.

 

For a few minutes, Isaac could let himself forget all about why he was over there at Jackson’s in the first place. However, one wrong shift on the bed caused the bruising on his ribs to flame up and Isaac winced, pressing back against Jackson a little more in an attempt to shift out of the position that caused the flare in his injury. Jackson’s brow furrowed a little but he said nothing as he gently squeezed Isaac’s hand once again. “I'll make us some lunch if you wanna take a shower,” Jackson said quietly after a few moments once Isaac’s slightly pained breathing slowed to normal.

 

“Yeah, okay,” replied the curly-haired teen, nodding a little without making any move to pull away from Jackson. He was not completely sure how he and Jackson Whittemore, of all people, had gotten to where they were; but, he would not change anything for the world, even if Jackson was an asshole whenever anyone else was around.

 

It took several minutes, but eventually the two boys got up, Isaac heading to Jackson’s bathroom to use the shower, and Jackson downstairs to the kitchen. It was fairly routine by that point (something that upset Jackson more than he let on, even to Isaac), but neither of them commented on that fact when Isaac came downstairs in his own jeans and t-shirt with one of Jackson’s hoodies on top of it. They did not comment on it as they sat on the couch to watch mindless comedies as they ate, nor did they comment on it as they lay down and then eventually fell back asleep there on the couch, neither one having slept much the night before.

 

Back at the school, Stiles made his way through the crowded hallways as he made his way toward the art classroom. He moved around a group of football players who were lingering near the hall that led to the gym and collided right into someone else doing the same from the other direction. Hands grabbed either of his shoulders to steady him faster than Stiles could even recognize the fact that he had lost balance. “Oh, hey, Derek,” Stiles said with a slight smile as he took a step back so that they were not in one another's personal space any longer.

 

“Stiles. Are you alright?” the other teen asked, lifting a brow slightly as he watched the boy in front of him.

 

Stiles nodded a few times, running a hand through his hair once as he did. “Yeah, 'm good; just kind of...” Nervous, on edge, worried, confused; Stiles could think of a bunch of different explanations, though none of them fully explained just how anxious he really felt. He almost felt like an anxiety attack was starting to build, or a panic attack; but, he had not had either of those in such a long time. He hoped to keep it that way, if he was honest. So, he tried to keep himself as calm as possible.

 

The glare that Matt and some of the others in the hallway were giving him was not really helping him any, but he tried to ignore it. “I should go,” Stiles said after a moment, not fully realizing that Derek had actually said something else to him. He simply pointed down the side hallway that he needed to use and started to walk toward it, leaving Derek standing there for a few moments longer before the basketball player started toward his own classroom. Stiles thought that Derek might have called his name, but the teen simply turned into Miss Penny's classroom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After school, Stiles waited by the Jeep for Scott until well after most of the other students had left for the day before he finally texted his best friend with a heavy sigh, asking where Scott was. Scott replied rather quickly, explaining that he had to go over to the Hale House again, but that he would be home shortly. Stiles rolled his eyes but decided to take Scott's word for it and he started to drive home. Both his father and Melissa were working night shifts that evening, so no one was there when he arrived. He was not sure what to do with himself, filled with a nervous energy that practically had his skin vibrating, if that was possible.

 

He started to do some cleaning around the house (dishes and straightening the living room, which did not need it since Stiles had done that twice already in the previous few days) to keep himself occupied, focused on his tasks instead of on whatever it was that could be _so_ important. Stiles did not like not knowing what was going on, but there was not much he could do at the moment. He would _make_ Scott fill him in once the other teen got to the house, but until Scott actually got there, he would just have to speculate. Of course, that led to Stiles coming up with all types of possibilities (that rogue omega coming back to slash everyone up and make the Argents hate werewolves even more, an alpha pack starting shit, Peter Hale finally going off the deep end). To be honest, Stiles was not sure which one was the scariest thought.

 

It was after dark when Stiles texted Scott again, getting a quick reply that included profuse apologies, and Stiles hit his forehead on the freezer door in irritation before opening it to pull out a frozen pizza that he planned on throwing into the oven for himself. With a scowl worthy of note, Stiles pulled the wrapper off of the frozen food and started the oven only to freeze when he heard one of the neighbors dogs barking like there was some sort of threat around. Stiles shoved it aside quickly, telling himself it was probably just a squirrel. That thought only lasted a few heartbeats before the sound just suddenly stopped along with Stiles' breath.

 

That did not sound good in the slightest. Turning the oven off, Stiles grabbed his cell phone and slowly made his way toward the windows near the front door. After he moved aside the sheer curtain in the windows, Stiles tensed when he spotted someone just standing in the middle of the street a few houses down. If that was not ominous, Stiles thought as he dialed Scott's number, he did not know what was. The person seemed to be watching him, and Stiles found himself with two instant thoughts of action; he could either run out the back door or go out the front and see what the person wanted.

 

After worrying on his lower lip, scowling as Scott did not answer the phone, Stiles made his way toward the back door, intending to go to the neighbor's house so that he at least was not alone with some weirdo on the street. He hung up the phone and called Scott again as he stepped off the back porch, stilling when someone else started to walk toward him from the nearby tree line, loading a gun as they walked. “Scott,” Stiles said irritatedly when his step-brother finally answered the phone; he wet his lips, looking at the few others that stepped into the backyard while he tried to keep himself as calm as possible, “that thing that you never told me. It was about hunters, wasn't it?”

 

“Yeah, why? Stiles, why?” Scott questioned, his voice rising a few octaves when the other teen did not answer him.

 

Scott heard Stiles gasp when the hunter pointed a gun at him, and he heard the gunshot go off, which caused Scott to start shouting into his phone, asking Stiles what was going on and if he was okay. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating feeling some sort of immense pain from the gunshot; but, it never came. After a moment, Stiles opened his eyes and found that he had been shoved aside and was laying on the ground. Derek stood above him, gripping onto his right shoulder with a flash of gold eyes at the hunters. “Stiles, run,” Derek insisted, hearing Scott calm down just a little on the dropped phone a few yards away when the other werewolf caught the sound of Derek’s voice.

 

Stiles did not even have time to react before Derek drug him to his feet and they both started running, hunters close on their heels. Bullets were flying and Stiles could barely keep up with what was going on around him. Everything just blurred together as they ran. They were suddenly in the woods (at least it seemed suddenly to Stiles), and he fell forward with a sharp cry as a sudden burning pain spread up from his leg through the rest of his body. Stiles barely heard Derek talking to him, telling him something that was probably important before he completely lost focus of everything around him.

 

When Stiles came to, his brow furrowed and he looked around him a little. He was in what appeared to be an old shed of some kind from what he could see; but, he was sitting in dirt. Did that mean he was underground? Stiles was not sure. What he was sure of was that there was someone sitting right behind him, and after another moment, Stiles realized that he was leaning back against Derek Hale. Stiles started to ask something, but the question was replaced with a cry that Derek muffled with a hand as he shifted and an indescribable pain coursed through his body once again. “Shh,” Derek said quietly into his ear. “Stiles, you've got to be quiet. Our families are looking for us; but, so are the hunters.”

 

Stiles nodded a little, showing that he understood, but Derek did not pull his hand away. Stiles took a deep, shaky breath through his nose while glancing down to the source of the pain the wracked his body only to find that his jeans were ripped and bloody. Had he been _shot_? Stiles assumed that was what had happened to him, but he was not sure. A slight shudder ran along his spine, however, when the pain started to lessen for a reason that Stiles was not sure of until he realized that Derek’s other hand was on his side where a hole had been ripped in his shirt. Derek was taking some of his pain, though he stopped when Stiles nudged him harshly in the stomach after noticing the other teen wince.

 

Hunters had _shot_ him; even the Argents did not go after _humans_ , Stiles remembered his lessons on different hunters from Scott. The new hunters, it seemed, did not care about any code. Stiles was not sure what to think about that. He wanted to focus on anything else, like where they were, but when Derek finally pulled the hand away from his mouth, Stiles could not bring himself to actually ask anything. The words were just not there, though he did try to make himself say something quietly. Instead, he ended up slowly falling asleep, pressed close to Derek Hale.


	4. Arc I, Four: Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hours hiding away, Derek and Stiles finally get help; but, what happens next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Stiles winced as he slowly started to wake up, though he was completely unsure where he was, still feeling groggy and like he was in a fog. He was vaguely aware of Derek still sitting right behind him and that awareness did not change even as Derek’s hand lifted to cover his mouth to muffle the sounds Stiles was not even aware he was making. Derek wondered not for the first time if Stiles had hit his head when he had fallen earlier, but he had not really checked. “Shh, Stiles,” Derek said quietly once again, wincing as he took some more of the pain that the teen felt. “Just sleep. Help will be here soon.”

 

The younger teen nodded a little, though he was not completely sure what he was agreeing to. He rested his head back against Derek’s shoulder, though, and quickly drifted back to sleep. Derek was pretty sure as he stopped leeching the pain that Stiles' tiredness was directly tied to the injury. He was more focused on the faint voices he could hear outside the hiding place, however. He was still learning to enhance his senses abilities, but he was sure some of the voices seemed familiar. Whether they were friend or foe, he was not exactly sure. He remained unsure until he heard the hidden door to the underground room open and he let out a breath of relief. His mother was there.

 

Sure enough, Talia Hale came sweeping down the steps, her brow furrowed as she caught sight of Derek and Stiles in the corner. “Derek,” she said softly, crossing the room over to the two teens. Talia gently took a hold of Stiles' chin and turned his head enough to see the cut near his hair line, glancing at the still-bleeding wound on his leg that Derek was putting pressure on. “Give him to me, Derek. We'll take him to the hospital.”

 

Sheriff Stilinski came rushing down the stairs just then, pushing past a few of the betas that stood guard as he went. “Did you find my son?” John asked in a slightly shaken voice while Talia effortlessly lifted Stiles from Derek’s arms. The relief the town's sheriff was more than visible as he nearly sank to his knees at the sight of his pale son in Talia's hold. “Is he...?”

 

“He's alive,” Talia insisted as she started to walk toward the stairs. “Derek, are you hurt?”

 

Her son shook his head as he followed close behind her. “No. I mean, I got shot, but they were using _regular_ bullets, Mom,” Derek stated as he walked, keeping his eyes trained on Stiles with only a slight glance back at the sheriff as John followed after them as well.

 

Talia let out a slight hum, letting him know that she heard his words but was not exactly sure what to make of the information. If the hunters were using regular bullets, then that meant they had _known_ they were going after a human and they had meant to. It meant that things were growing far more dangerous than they had ever thought possible. Talia was sure that the Stilinski-McCall family was going to be in the most danger, if that was the case.

 

“Come,” Talia said after a moment, glancing toward John with a look in her eye that showed every ounce of sympathy she felt for the man. “Let's get young Stiles to the hospital and waste no more time.”

 

It was not said during Stiles' transport to the hospital, but everyone would feel better knowing that at least one of the adult members of the Hale pack would remain nearby throughout whatever stay at the hospital that Stiles might have. Once there, the doctors tried to look at Derek as well, spotting the bloody hole in his shirt; but, once the teen had yanked off the plaid over-shirt to reveal that there was no sign of injuries on his arms because he had healed, they left him alone. He did not bother putting the shirt back on, since he'd worn another underneath the plaid shirt. Scott scowled slightly at the fact that Derek remained there as the doctors worked on patching up Stiles' leg and monitoring for any brain injury, along with his sister Laura.

 

Scott did not mind Laura at all; he just was not all that fond of Derek for a reason none of them had yet to figure out. Derek paced a little while John sat next to Melissa, holding his head in his hands while she absentmindedly ran a hand over his back. Scott sat next to Allison, who wordlessly held his hand as they all waited for some kind of word on how Stiles was doing. It had been several hours since Derek and Stiles had gone missing, and he had lost a lot of blood.

 

It was after sun-up before Stiles got moved to a private room to rest, his doctor saying that Stiles would be back to full health in a few days. He may need some physical therapy for his leg, and some pain medication, but nothing permanent. John, somehow, convinced Melissa and Scott to go on home to get some rest, which eventually left himself and Derek Hale sitting in Stiles' room. Derek refused to leave, even though there was not really anything he could do there. He had been there when Stiles had gotten hurt and when he had fallen asleep; he was determined to be there when the other teen woke, as well. “Hale,” John said tiredly after a few hours of sitting there, and he looked over at Derek as the teenaged werewolf shook his head.

 

“No,” replied the teen with a tired, slightly scratchy voice. He was not going to leave, no matter who tried to get him to. He just... He needed to be _sure_ that Stiles was going to be okay. Derek was not sure why he was filled with such a pressing need to know that; but, it was there. That was enough for him.

 

Several minutes later, John got up, excusing himself to get some coffee from the cafeteria. When he got there, Melissa was already sitting at one of the tables, looking as exhausted as he felt. She obviously had not gotten any sleep despite having gone home. John pressed a kiss to the top of her head, sighing inaudibly before sitting down next to her. “Did you get any sleep?” he asked her quietly, taking one of her hands in his. When she shook her head a little, John pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “We're going to be fine, Mel.”

 

“Talia said what the hunters did... it's an act of _war_ , John,” replied Melissa with a shaky voice, blinking furiously to fight back the tears that burned her already red eyes. “We all know the Argents have been trying for a long time to get to this point, but we never thought it would be in our lifetime.”

 

“I know.” John sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his hair, not letting go of Melissa’s hand with his other for a moment. His brow furrowed as he thought about everything that was changing, and everything that was likely to come soon. Maybe they should consider homeschooling the boys, at least until public school was safer. Or they could set up a safe-haven school, or _something_. John, for the first time in a long while had _no_ idea what to do.

 

“John, you should go.” Melissa’s words were small, and the town sheriff almost missed them, but he sighed heavily in response and nodded a little.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, glancing toward the door of the cafeteria, “I should get back to Stiles.”

 

Melissa took a deep breath and shook her head, squeezing her husband's hand with a soft, sad laugh. “No, John. I mean, you should _go_. Take Stiles and just, get away from here. Erase your ties with the werewolves. You'll both be safe. Scott and I--”

 

“No,” interrupted John, his voice stern and unwavering despite the intense fear he felt from his wife's suggestion to save himself and his son. “I am _not_ leaving you and Scott; Stiles won't either. You have to know that. I love you, Mel, and Scott is my _son_. Stiles and I are not going anywhere.”

 

“At least you'd be safe!” Her voice became panicked and shrill as she turned to face the man she had married several years before. “John, please, think about it at least.” Melissa took several breaths as her husband brushed his thumb along her knuckles, closing her eyes for a moment before looking back to him. “They shot at Stiles, John; _Stiles_. He's never done anything to _anyone_ and he's been here twice in two weeks.”

 

“I'm not picking one son over the other, Melissa,” replied John quietly with a shake of his head, causing Melissa to sink down low in her seat. The expression on her face was a mix of affection and fear that she felt deep inside. “We're going to get through this, together.”

 

Melissa nodded a few times, taking a shaky breath before sighing inaudibly as John pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you,” Melissa said quietly after a moment. “I'll be up to see you and Stiles after my first rounds, okay?”

 

“Okay.” John nodded a little and pressed a kiss to his wife's forehead, determined to talk to her more about everything when they were in the comfort of their own home, before he got up and left the cafeteria with a coffee in hand.

 

By the time John got back to Stiles' room, Derek had finally fallen asleep in his chair. He had his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, with one elbow resting on the arm of the chair using that hand to hold his head up. He probably was not very deeply asleep, but the teen did not stir as John sat back down in his own chair. Derek looked a lot younger than John knew he was as he sat there, and the sheriff found himself feeling quite grateful for the teen. If Derek had not been at the Stilinski-McCall house, for whatever reason he had been there, Stiles may have died.

 

John's attention turned from the young werewolf in the corner of the room to his son when he heard a sharp intake of breath from the bed as well as the tell-tale signs of the other teen shifting in place. Stiles' brow was furrowed as he looked around the room, eyes squinted from how bright the room seemed to him. “Dad?” the teen questioned, his voice sounding almost broken as he felt a hand wrap around his.

 

“Yeah, I’m here, kiddo,” replied John, nodding a little while he watched Stiles blink a few times and gain an awareness of his surroundings. “You're going to be just fine. The doctors said there's no lasting damage.”

 

“What happened?” Stiles cleared his throat a little as the words practically got stuck, and he quietly thanked his father as the action caused the sheriff to get him a small glass of water from the pitcher on his bedside.

 

John sighed a little after Stiles took a few drinks, leaning up more with his help. When Stiles was settled back down, John sat down on the bed next to him, careful of the IV and monitoring wires. “You got shot in the leg by some hunters that were chasing after you in the woods. Derek Hale helped get you out of there.” Stiles' brow furrowed once again as his gaze drifted over to where Derek was still asleep sitting in his chair. “He's not left since we got you here last night.”

 

“Oh.” Stiles absentmindedly wet his lips, not exactly sure what to think about that bit of information. Derek had stayed with him since he'd gotten hurt, when the other teen could have easily left him at any time. Staying with him was something that Stiles expected Scott to do, not Derek. “When can I go home? I want to go home.”

 

John smiled at his son and leaned down to press a kiss to Stiles' forehead. “I'll go let the doctor know you're awake and we'll figure it out,” John stated as he straightened up. He then moved over to place a hand on Derek’s shoulder, squeezing it gently as he said, “Son, Stiles is awake.”

 

A moment passed before Derek actually woke up, but he did and John smiled faintly before telling him that he was going to go get the doctor. Derek waited until John left the room before he actually looked over at Stiles while sitting forward in his seat so that he was nearly on the edge of it. “How're you feeling?” Derek asked in a voice that sounded as tired as he was.

 

“Tingly; but, I think that's pain medication,” replied Stiles with a slight smirk that fell after a few moments. “Thank you, for, uh, staying with me and everything. You coulda just left.”

 

Derek shook his head a little, absentmindedly running a hand over his face with a slight yawn. “No way was I just leaving you out there. You almost bled out. It... There was a lot of blood.” Stiles, even though he did not know Derek all that well, could practically see the worry coming off of the other teen in waves as Derek thought back to the night spent in their hiding place. “It's just good that they found us when they did.”

 

Laura Hale appeared near the door just before the sheriff and Stiles' doctor came into the room, making Derek smile faintly at Stiles before he moved over to where his sister was. Stiles' doctor went over the important details, that Stiles needed to rest his leg but not completely stop using it. He should do physical therapy and only take the pain medication when the pain was really bad. He could still go to school, as long as he continued to use the crutches. The man suggested getting a knee brace just to help, especially if he went back to school soon (the earliest he said Stiles could go should be Friday). It would be several weeks before Stiles would be able to walk without assistance, the doctor informed them. But, he was cleared to go home at any time. Laura and Derek took that as their cue to leave, and Laura led her younger brother out of the room without a word to the Stilinskis.

 

A visit with Melissa and a car ride later found Stiles and John at the house, where Scott was already waiting for them. “Penny's going to stop by later with a bunch of food,” Scott told them as they all went inside before John and Scott started to set things up in the living room for Stiles to use for the next few days. He could sleep and relax down there, as it was closer to the bathroom than Stiles' bedroom upstairs was.

 

Sure enough, around six that evening, when Melissa got back from the hospital, Penny showed up laden down with pastas and other foods that were easily reheated, as well as a bunch of Stiles' favorite baked goods. The five of them sat in the living room and talked about anything that did not involve werewolves as they ate their supper of lasagna. “You can't pull them out of school,” Penny said with a horrified expression when Melissa suggested it. The blonde woman shook her head violently and set her plate aside. “They want to disrupt daily lives, to make us change our ways and go into hiding. Pulling them out of school is playing into whatever game they're playing.”

 

“But leaving them in school is putting them in danger,” said Melissa with a faint frown as she wrung her hands in her lap until Stiles reached over and took hold of one of them with a gentle squeeze.

 

“Danger from who? Melly, _all_ of the teachers are supporters except one, but he's never around either of the boys. The students are vulnerable, confused. They have whatever views their parents do right now; but, if they stay in school, we have more of a chance of rallying the people who matter more than the adults, the teenagers who are going to shape the world next.”

 

Stiles sighed softly, idly wetting his lips before shaking his head as he said, “I don't want to leave school.”

 

“Stiles, someone pushed you down the stairs just last week, and now you were shot!” Scott said warily, eying his best friend as if trying to figure out Stiles' train of thought.

 

“That happened in my own back yard, Scott. Penny's right, though. If we just go into hiding, we're giving in, and I’m not going to do that.” Stiles shook his head a little, gently squeezing Melissa’s and as she squeezed his. “I'm going to school on Friday.”

 

\---

 

Friday morning dawned crisp and warm, the perfect day for the ending of summer. Fall was fast approaching and it could practically be felt in the air. The leaves were slowly starting to change and the days were growing shorter. Fall was Stiles' favorite time of year, and he could not wait. Scott drove him to school that day, and when they got there, the younger teen expertly got out of the car with the assistance of crutches. The story was that Stiles fell out of a tree. No need to inflate the hunters' egos with letting the truth out. It had been Stiles' idea.

 

Scott went to Stiles' locker with him and helped his friend get all the books he would need for his first class while Stiles leaned back against the wall across the hallway from the locker. Stiles' brow furrowed a little when he heard Scott groan and he almost asked the other teen what was wrong, but his attention was directed down the hall a short ways when he heard Derek say, “Stiles, what are you doing here?”

 

“What?” replied Stiles with a smirk and a soft laugh, glancing over at Scott as his brother shut his locker before looking back to Derek. “You think a little gunshot wound is going to keep me away?”

 

“Yes, actually.” Derek’s voice sounded exasperated as he held a basketball under one arm, walking closer to where Stiles was standing with a furrowed brow and an expression that read more of worry than of anger, though the edge to Derek’s tone led Stiles to believe that anger was what the other teen was trying to portray. Scott had done the same and failed miserably. “Stiles...”

 

“No,” Stiles interrupted with a shake of his head as he leaned it back against the wall and looked Derek in the eyes, “I'm doing this.”

 

Derek sighed softly but nodded after a moment and he looked to Scott. “I'll help him with his things to chemistry so you won't be late for your class,” he offered.

 

Scott looked between the two of them, clutching onto Stiles' books as though he were going to take them and run, before he sighed softly and handed the books over. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you next period, Stiles.”

 

“See ya, Scott,” Stiles replied with a wave before he watched his brother go down the hallway and meet Cora and Allison. “You don't have to do this, y'know. Scott was more than willing.”

 

“I know.”

 

Stiles watched Derek for a moment, neither one of them saying anything, before he nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. Stiles was not completely sure what he was doing, but he was going to see his decision through to the end. Somehow, though, having Derek there at his side made Stiles feel better about being there at the school, and he was not entirely sure why. He guessed it did not matter much as he took his usual seat next to Derek and the two of them got ready for the class to start. Whatever was going to happen, Stiles just hoped they were all ready for it.


	5. Arc I, Five: Display

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles gets lost in his art, and he has a conversation with Isaac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

“Stiles!” Isaac exclaimed as he came up to where his friend was eating lunch outside. “Where have you been?” The curly-haired teen's brow furrowed as he sat down on the bench next to the other boy, taking note of the knee brace that Stiles wore on top of his jeans. “What happened?”

 

“I'm _fine_ , Isaac,” he replied with a smile, reaching over to gently squeeze the other teen's arm. “I just fell out of the tree. Clumsy like that.” Stiles sent Isaac a text then, telling him that he would explain later if Isaac came home with him after school. Isaac read the text and looked up quickly at Stiles before nodding once. Stiles frowned slightly as he reached out and took Isaac’s face in hand, turning his friend's head enough to see the faint bruising still visible below Isaac’s eye. “What happened to _you_?”

 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” The words came out quick and harsh, making Isaac flinch at his own tone before sighing softly with a shake of his head. “I'm fine, Stiles. Promise. I’ve, uhm, 've been over at Jackson’s the past few days.” Isaac idly wet his lips, nodding a little as he absentmindedly played with the string of his jacket's hood.

 

Stiles nodded a little before smirking faintly as he reached out to tug on the hood of the jacket as he said, “Guess that explains why you're wearing Jackson’s jacket.”

 

Isaac froze at his friend's words, a pink tint immediately coloring his face. “It... I...”

 

“Hey, don't. You don't have to explain to me.” Stiles shook his head as he offered some of his french fries to Isaac, who took one with a sheepish smile. To be honest, Stiles was just glad that Isaac had somewhere to go to since he was still so unwilling to go to the authorities about what his father was doing; and, they all knew that if anyone else told them, Isaac would just deny it.

 

Meanwhile, Scott sighed heavily just inside the doors of the school, looking out at Stiles and Isaac talking with smiles on their faces. He shook his head a little before looking to Allison. “I just don't get how he can just... _go on_ with his life as if nothing happened,” Scott said, fighting his instinct to just go outside and continue to protect his brother that way. “Maybe my mom's right.”

 

Allison’s brow furrowed a little as she took Scott's hand in her own and asked, “Right about what?”

 

Scott idly wet his lips as he glanced back out at Stiles and Isaac. “She thinks that he and John should pack up and leave. They're safer away from here, away from me.”

 

“Scott.” Allison’s voice was partially laughed as she gently squeezed Scott's hand, making her boyfriend looking back to her. “Surely you don't want that.”

 

“I don't,” Scott insisted, his voice wavering slightly though it continued to hold truth. “I just want him to be _safe_. He's my brother, and John's more of a father to me than my own father. I _want_ them here; but, I also want them _safe_. Stiles got _shot_ , Allison. That's not safe.”

 

Allison sighed softly and pulled her boyfriend into a firm hug, wrapping both arms around his neck. She idly played with his hair as he hid his face in her shoulder. “It's going to be okay, Scott,” she insisted quietly, nodding a little while holding him a little closer. “They're going to be okay. We all will.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles found himself distracted in his art class to the point that he was not aware that only he and Miss Penny remained as he worked on his charcoal drawing. Stiles was not completely sure of what the subject of the drawing was, but he felt compelled to finish it. There were some trees and the moon, but that was all that Stiles could pick out so far. It was not the first time that he had gotten to the point where he just _drew_ , letting his hand move without over-thinking it. Stiles always found it exciting, never quite knowing what he would see when he stepped back enough to see the whole picture. “Shh, Miss Penny said softly when Derek Hale stopped in the doorway and opened his mouth to say something to Stiles. “Let him work. He'll be aware of his surroundings again any minute now.”

 

Derek’s brow lifted in amusement and confusion, but he did not call out to Stiles like he had been going to. “Scott went to cross country practice,” Derek informed Miss Penny with a slight nod before wetting his lips while idly spinning the ball in his hands with one finger on either side. “I'm supposed to make sure he gets home okay.”

 

Penny pursed her lips a little, looking Derek over before nodding her head once in a resolute manner. “You're the Hale boy, aren't you?” she questioned, a faint smirk tugging up on her lips that were colored in red that day. Derek nodded slowly, his brow furrowing a little as he did, which only made the art teacher smirk a little more. She alone was aware that in several of the sketches that Stiles had turned in due to his absence from having been _shot_ (excuse Penny as she had a mini-mental freak out at the thought) had Derek somewhere in them. Whether or not Stiles had done it on purpose, Penny had not yet figured out. Scott, Melissa, and the sheriff took up most of Stiles' drawings, like normal; but, still, anyone else making it into the book, aside from the few of Isaac, was very rare. “Good. Make sure he takes some pain meds when he gets there. He keeps fidgeting and wincing.” There was a pause in which Derek nodded, but Penny was too busy watching her godson. “I think I’ll make him cookies tonight.”

 

“You know him? Outside of school, I mean,” Derek said, slightly in surprised as he moved to hold the basketball against one of his sides with one arm draped over it.

 

“Oh, yes.” Penny smiled brightly and nodded rapidly enough that Derek was sure one of her barrettes was going to fly off. “I'm his godmother.”

 

“Oh.” Derek nodded a little, his eyes trailing back over to where Stiles was as the other teen took a few steps back, using only one crutch for assistance as he looked over the drawing he had finished.

 

Stiles tipped his head slightly to the side and that was when he realized that Derek Hale was standing at the front of the classroom near Miss Penny's desk. Stiles' brow furrowed as he looked over to where the others were supposed to be sitting, only to find that they weren't there. “Where is everyone?” Stiles questioned as he placed his charcoal on the small media tray on the easel.

 

“Sweetheart,” laughed Miss Penny, shaking her head a little, “everyone's gone home. It's almost four.” Stiles' eyes widened a little as he quickly looked to the clock on the wall, only to let out a heavy breath when he saw that she was right. He had not meant to get so focused on his work, but it had been a while since he had any _actual_ inspiration for a big project. “Why don't you let Derek help you clean up?” Miss Penny made her suggestion as she moved away from her desk, walking over to where Stiles was as she grabbed his canvas. “And, I’ll put this on display.”

 

“You don't even know if it's _good_ , Penny,” Stiles said somewhat quietly, his face flushing a little as Derek walked to the back to help Stiles put up everything.

 

Penny made a dismissive noise and waved one of her hands. “It's _yours_. Of course it's good, sweetie,” she replied before using some wire and tacks to make a easy hanger in order to place the drawing onto the blank wall opposite the door. “There. Wow, Stiles, this one really is amazing. One of your best.”

 

Stiles mumbled a soft thanks, though Penny knew he greatly meant it; she knew well that he had never known how to take the positive responses that his artwork often brought, so she did not take it personally at all. Derek paused his cleaning to look at the piece, only to find him staring at it until Stiles nudged him with an elbow. The drawing was of the woods, Derek assumed there in Beacon Hills. Weaving in and out of the trees was a single, large, black wolf; and somewhere near-by was a person wearing a hooded jacket that was covering their face, a baseball bat in one hand as they walked in the same direction. “She's right, it is good,” Derek said quietly, only loud enough for Stiles to hear.

 

“Uh, thanks,” replied Stiles, denying the fact that his face turned red once again before he continued to tell Derek where everything went. “What're you even doing here?”

 

“Scott's at cross country; I’m supposed to make sure you get home alright.” Derek grabbed Stiles' backpack, ignoring the way the other teen's brow rose at the action before Stiles grabbed his other crutch in order to actually walk out of there without falling.

 

“I don't need a babysitter.”

 

Derek shook his head a little as they walked out to a car that Stiles did not recognize, probably one of the many that the Hale family was said to have. It meant that the whole thing had been planned, and Cora or Allison picked up the other Hale siblings. Stiles was not sure what he thought about that. “No, I know you don't. You didn't exactly want to walk all the way home, though, did you?” replied Derek, smirking a bit too much for Stiles' liking until the human _accidentally_ tripped up the werewolf with one of his crutches. “Whoa, hey. Cheater.”

 

“No, you're the cheater,” replied Stiles with a huff. “You didn't even actually fall over.” Stiles frowned when Derek just grinned at him in response, though he did not argue as Derek opened the passenger side door for him. Derek took the crutches as Stiles sat down, and the other teen then took his stuff from the basketball player. It was then that Stiles realized that Derek’s basketball was missing; until Derek put his backpack in the backseat, and Stiles caught a flash of orange from the zipper that was not closed.

 

The drive to the Stilinski-McCall home was filled with conversation, mostly about school and their shared history class. When they got to the house, Derek helped Stiles inside, setting the teen's backpack on the coffee table in front of the couch that appeared to be Stiles' temporary home, at least until he could easily move up steps. “You should take some of your pain meds,” Derek insisted, ignoring the way that Stiles glared at him for the suggestion. “Where are they?”

 

“Kitchen,” Stiles stated with a sigh and a nod, running a hand through his hair. “Dad keeps 'em on the table.”

 

Derek nodded and placed his own backpack on the ground next to the end table before going into the kitchen to grab one pill and a glass of water. Derek remembered Melissa saying something about how he should never take two unless the pain became unbearable. That dosage was typically saved for right after a physical therapy session. “Thanks,” Stiles said softly, taking the medication and glass from Derek. He hesitated for several moments before actually taking the pill. “Isaac should be over here soon.” Stiles leaned over enough to place the glass on the coaster that sat on the coffee table, looking up to Derek. “I, uh, was wondering if you understood the assignment from Harris.”

 

“Yeah,” answered Derek, sighing as though it was the worst thing ever. However, he surprised Stiles by saying, “Did you need help with it?”

 

“Uhm, yes, please.” Stiles nodded a few times, and Derek went to his backpack to pull his own chemistry book out of the limited confines of his backpack.

 

The slightly elder teen then sat down on the couch next to Stiles, careful not to jostle him any, and opened his book to the page they were on. “D'you have your worksheet?” Derek waited until Stiles got it out before he actually started to assist Stiles with the homework. Together, the two of them got the worksheet done (and Stiles actually _understood_ the process, which was not something he could usually do without re-teaching it to himself after Harris' attempts; he would not say it was Harris' fault, Stiles just did not get the way the man taught).

 

They ended up going on to work on the history homework (which was really simple because all the answers were in the book), and only got a few questions done before Isaac let himself into the house, as he always did whenever the door was unlocked. “Oh,” Isaac said as he stopped near the doorway of the room. “I didn't realize you had company. I could...”

 

“Isaac, get over here,” Stiles replied with a fond roll of his eyes, nodding toward the empty place on the couch while fighting the urge to yawn; his pain medication made him slightly drowsy, but he did not want to sleep yet. He still needed to talk to Isaac. “Derek and I were just working on some homework.”

 

“I should go,” stated Derek as he stood up, closing his history textbook while grabbing his backpack with his free hand. “I'll see you at school.”

 

Stiles just kind of sat there, rather speechless as Derek left the house without so much as looking back. Isaac worried at his lower lip as he continued to stand there, feeling bad for making the other teen leave; or at least, that was what it felt like had just happened. Derek had not wanted to leave until Isaac had gotten there, anyway. “Isaac, really, come sit,” Stiles said with a soft sigh, managing an honest smile in his friend's direction.

 

“What's going on, Stiles?” Isaac asked quietly as he walked over to sit down on the couch next to Stiles. Isaac wrung his hands in his lap nervously as he watched the other teen, trying to figure out what had actually happened to cause him to miss school once again.

 

“Someone shot me.” Isaac’s eyes widened and he gaped at Stiles, seemingly stumbling over his questions about what had happened and why. Stiles smiled slightly and squeezed Isaac’s shoulder before he continued to explain everything that had happened the night the hunters showed up and immediately afterward.

 

Isaac sat there quietly, listening as Stiles explained what had happened. He felt terrible that all of that had happened while Isaac was hiding away from the world at Jackson’s. Everything had been fine and he'd been actually happy while he was over there. Time with Jackson always made him feel better; but, his friend, one of his _closest_ friends had gotten shot and he did not even know about it until afterward. “So, why the story about falling out of the tree?” Isaac asked slowly and quietly, idly wringing his hands in his lap while watching Stiles.

 

Stiles laughed a little, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. “The hunters are still _here_ somewhere. Like I want to give them the satisfaction of the truth coming out. Nobody needs to know.”

 

Isaac seemed to be struggling with the information, stilling his hands only to reach up and run his fingers through his hair. “Stiles, this is _serious_. What if they don't miss next time? You could be hurt. You could die!”

 

“Hey, it's going to be alright.” Stiles reached over and took Isaac’s hand in his own, gently squeezing it while waiting for his friend to calm down. “I'm going to be fine. We all will. We'll... we'll figure a way through this.”

 

“Maybe you should stop sitting with them,” Isaac suggested smally.

 

The other teen idly wet his lips before slowly shaking his head.”I can't do that, Isaac. I can't just... There's _nothing_ wrong with them. They're great people; hell, Jackson’s best friend since _forever_ is a werewolf, Isaac. Just because there's a few deranged ones out there doesn't mean the entire race is evil. If that were true, we could say the same of humans.”

 

Isaac’s brow furrowed but after a moment, he nodded with a soft sigh. “Can I sit with you guys tomorrow?”

 

Stiles' face brightened with a smile, despite how tired they could both tell that the injured teen was growing, though Stiles was trying to deny that for as long as possible. “Yeah. That'd be... yeah. You can sit by me.”

 

After a moment Isaac nodded a little and smiled softly over at Stiles. He could tell that his friend was wanting to change the subject to anything else but current events, so the curly-haired teen suggested putting in a movie. Isaac put in _The Avengers_ , but Stiles still managed to fall asleep only ten minutes in. Isaac ended up dosing off there as well, sitting next to Stiles, the two of them leaning against one another. Neither one woke up when Scott got home, and he did not have the heart to wake them. Instead, he sat down on Stiles' other side and ended up falling asleep with them, leaning against his brother and using Stiles' shoulder as a pillow. That was how Melissa and John found them when they got back from work late that night.

 

Neither one woke the teens as they quietly made a late dinner, but knowing their boys, they probably had not eaten yet. So, Melissa did wake them once food was done. Stiles groaned a little, wincing as he shifted in place, a hand immediately resting on his injured leg. Scott absentmindedly curled a hand around Stiles' wrist, leeching some of his brother's pain from him as he started to sit up straight himself with a yawn. “Scott, stop,” Stiles mumbled after a moment when the pain was at least tolerable.

 

“Dinner's done, boys,” said Melissa with a smile once the drowsy teens finally seemed more coherent. “It's late, so bed after eating.”

 

Isaac’s eyes widened and his face blanched as a pure look of horror crossed his expression, his eyes immediately darting to the digital clock that at on the entertainment center. “Shit!” he exclaimed as he jumped up, wincing slightly at his outburst with an apologetic smile at Melissa. “Sorry, but I’ve got to be home. It's past curfew. I-I've got to get home.”

 

“I can give you a ride, son,” John said with a slightly furrowed brow as he walked into the living room, holding a plate for Stiles in his hands. “I'm sure he'll understand.”

 

“N-no, thank you.” Isaac shook his head rapidly, running a hand through his hair before letting out a shaky breath with a broken smile. “I'll be fine. It's not that far of a walk. I’ll, uhm... bye.”

 

Without another word, Isaac left the Stilinski-McCall household, leaving the four inhabitants quiet as the seconds ticked by. Stiles was the first one to break the silence, letting out a slow and shaky breath as he looked to his father. “I'm worried about him,” Stiles said quietly before worrying at his lower lip. If the expressions of his family were anything to go by, they were too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to dedicate this chapter to my awesome new friend,  
> [ablueyedangelinatrenchcoat](http://ablueyedangelinatrenchcoat.tumblr.com/)! Also, follow me on tumblr: [here](http://subjecta2tbk.tumblr.com)!


	6. Arc I, Six: Raids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Isaac gets help, and everything goes to shit all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

“ _I propose that we_ _ **do**_ _something_ ,” the voice on the television belonging to Victoria Argent quietly spoke into the living room of the otherwise quiet and still Stilinski-McCall home. “ _Our children's lives are in danger. These..._ _ **abominations**_ _cannot control themselves. Oh, they can fake it; we have observed it. In the end, they're just another rabid dog. I have watched my husband's best friend go from being a kind, caring, family man into a mindless animal that nearly killed the man that I love. It is in their nature to be violent. How can we even begin to protect ourselves, to protect our_ _ **families**_ _if we do not even know who is a potential killer._

 

“ _We need some sort of... system, a controlled system with a list of potential threats. We need to know how to protect ourselves, to make sure that this_...” Victoria paused to gesture over to the screen that several disturbing issues of a family that had been slaughtered in their sleep. There were pieces of them strewn everywhere, as if an animal had torn them apart. “ _Does not happen again. John Miller did this to his own family. These_ _ **things**_ _should not be allowed near our children or our homes._ ”

 

Stiles was practically shaking in his spot on the couch as Melissa came in to hand him a cup of tea. “She's vile,” Stiles mumbled before thanking Melissa softly as he took a tentative sip of the warm tea. “She's been suggesting _tagging_ or _collars_ , and-and grouping them in _camps_ or giving humans access to guns and wolfsbane bullets.”

 

Melissa frowned as she sat next to Stiles. Neither one of them had been able to sleep after Isaac left, and the other two had gone to sleep. She wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulders, and he leaned into the embrace, resting his head on her shoulder while continuing to watch as Victoria talked about the rising number of werewolves turning against humans. “And what do you want to bet that those humans baited the werewolves, or that they were simply protecting themselves,” Melissa replied, idly toying with Stiles' hair using the arm that was around his shoulders, the other hand lifting her own cup of tea to take a drink.

 

Stiles nodded a little, but did not lift his head, resting his cup of tea on his good leg, fingers still wrapped tightly around the mug. After a moment, he leaned forward to place it on the coffee table before he rested back where he had been, head immediately resting on Melissa’s shoulder once again. “I heard you talking to Dad earlier,” Stiles all but mumbled, making Melissa’s fingers still in his hair. It was only then that he realized she had been carding them through the strands again. “About us leaving.”

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Melissa said softly, setting aside her own cup while turning slightly in her seat, enough that she could look at the teen easier. “You know that it's not that I _want_ you to go, right? I just... I want you to be safe.”

 

“I know.” Stiles nodded a little without lifting his head, smiling faintly as he gently squeezed her knee. “You're kinda stuck with us, though. Not going anywhere.”

 

Melissa smiled softly, almost sadly as she pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead. “I so wish that I could protect you and Scott from all of this. None of this should ever happen to anyone.”

 

Stiles nodded a little in understanding, smiling a little at her. “We'll be okay, Mom.”

 

The nurse inhaled sharply through her nose at the teen's words, pausing at the fact that he had called her 'Mom'. He had never done that before, and Melissa had never expected him to. She was his step-mother, yes, but she would have been fine being 'Melissa' forever. She understood that she would never replace Stiles' mother in his heart, but that did not mean that she would not care for him and love him just as much. “Yeah,” Melissa replied, smiling softly at the teen in her arms before pressing another kiss to his forehead.

 

Meanwhile, across town, Isaac Lahey quietly slipped out of his bedroom window, clutching at his middle as he went. Thankfully, his room was on the first floor, which meant he did not have to do any climbing. The teen very carefully closed his window once again, hoping that his father was so deeply asleep under the alcohol that any noises would not be noticed. He then started to walk toward the Whittemore house, limping slightly as he went.

 

Isaac had only lifted his hand to ring the doorbell when the door in front of him opened quickly, revealing Jackson standing there. He had seen Isaac headed that way from his bedroom window and had come downstairs, hoping that the other teen was heading there. “Isaac, what the hell did he do?” Jackson asked as he carefully tugged the curly-haired teen into his house. Jackson immediately wrapped his arms around Isaac, and the other boy practically sagged against him. Jackson was sure that he was the only reason that Isaac was still upright.

 

Isaac’s body shook with silent sobs as he let Jackson hold him, fingers twisting into the side of the popular teen's shirt as he tried to hold Jackson as close as possible. “I can't go back,” was all that Isaac said in reply, his voice shaking just as much as he was. “I can't. He's my dad, b-but I can't.”

 

“No, you're not going back.” Jackson shook his head a little, absentmindedly running his hand over Isaac’s back in a soothing manner. “Shouldn't have let you go back the first time.” They just stood there for a long while, holding on to one another until Jackson heard the sound of his father's car in the driveway. Him and his wife had gone out for the evening. Jackson pressed a kiss to Isaac’s temple without letting him go. “My dad can help.”

 

Isaac nodded a little but did not move from Jackson’s side. They walked over to sit on the couch, Isaac limping the entire way. The curly-haired teen sat pressed close to Jackson’s side, ignoring the way it made his entire side hurt. Several moments later, Becky and Tom Whittemore came into the house through the doorway that led to the garage. Tom's brow rose when he spotted his son sitting next to another boy, one who was practically shaking as he sat curled up against Jackson’s side. “What's going on?” Tom asked as he glanced at his wife before focusing on the teens once again.

 

“Dad, we need your help,” Jackson said quietly, in a soft voice that was so unlike the teen that they knew.

 

“With what?”

 

“This is Isaac. He's... important to me. It's about his dad.”

 

Both Tom and Becky frowned a little as they glanced at one another before Becky said, “We should probably get him to a doctor first.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fall happened sooner than any of them really could fathom. The temperature seemed to drop overnight as the leaves changed color. Stiles' physical therapy was done and he could walk on his own. Sometimes it still hurt and the knee brace was still used occasionally. He would not be playing lacrosse that year. Isaac moved in with the Whittemores after his father was arrested; Stiles had spent an entire week over there with his friend after the arrest was made. After that, there was a whole lot of nothing that happened; and then, all at once, everything changed.

 

Stiles sat outside on one of the picnic benches during lunch. It had been all over the news that morning; two southern states had passed anti-werewolf laws that would require all werewolves to be registered and to live in special compounds. Victoria Argent flew out to Georgia for the opening of the largest one there.

 

There were _raids_ in the middle of the night, special members of the police forces that took werewolves from their homes. Families were separated and human members of packs were put into the system if they were underage or into separate compounds where they would learn about the supposed dangers they lived with. Stiles let out a breath that was more shaky than he was comfortable with, dropping his phone aside on the table, having been following updates on the story through it. “This can't be happening,” he mumbled to himself, running his fingers through his hair. His hands were shaking, he realized as he lowered them to rest on his lap.

 

His chest tightened, and Stiles swore his temperature shot up enough that sweat beaded on his face. It was not the time or place for a panic attack, but Stiles could not really stop it either. The teen grabbed the edge of the table in front of him, struggling to breathe through the weight and pressure and tightness of his throat. Stiles thought he heard someone saying his name, but it sounded muffled, as though there were several walls between him and the other person. After what felt like hours, Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched away from the touch. “D-don't,” Stiles gasped out as the person pulled their hand away and sat down next to him.

 

“Stiles, it's okay,” the person said, and Stiles slowly came to the realization that it was Derek sitting next to him. “You're okay, Stiles. I need you to breathe, okay?” Derek was completely unsure what to do with the other teen. He had heard Scott talking to Talia about how Stiles used to get panic attacks, but Derek had never _seen_ one. He quickly texted Scott, telling him to get out there. “Stiles, just... I don't know, relax.”

 

Stiles laughed bitterly, the sound more air than actual laughter. His grip on the table tightened, though he did try to focus on regulating his breathing. He closed his eyes, focusing on clenching and unclenching his fingers, then the muscles in his legs. He let out a heavy, slow breath just as Scott came rushing out of the school, running over to where Stiles sat next to Derek. “Stiles! What's-?” Scott tried to ask, resting a hand on Stiles' shoulder, running the hand along the other teen's arm in a repetitive manner.

 

“It's starting, Scott,” Stiles said, his breath coming out shaky but slow. “They're splitting up _families_. They're... it's raids on homes while they're asleep, collars and registry. What if we're next? There's _five_ states already in the span of _days_.”

 

Scott shared a glance with Derek, neither one of them quite sure what to say. His fears were valid, something they all worried about. “We're going to be okay, Stiles,” Scott said softly, calmly though with a hint of strong belief. Things would work out in the end, they had to.

 

Stiles let out a forcefully slow breath, closing his eyes and nodded. His eyes opened when he felt someone gently squeezing his leg and he looked over at Derek, whose hand rested near his knee as it had on the first day of school in the cafeteria. He smiled a little before looking over at Scott. “This is really bad, though, right?” he asked quietly, not missing the look that Scott shot at Derek. “No secrets.” Stiles punched Scott in the arm, narrowing his eyes a little. “I'm deep in this shit already, so... No secrets.”

 

“Yeah,” Scott agreed with a heavy sigh, wetting his lips before nodding a little. “Talia is urging a pack meeting tonight once I get off of work at the clinic.” Stiles nodded a little as well, not even realized he had let go of the table with one hand and rested it on top of Derek’s until the other teen gently squeezed his fingers. “John and Mom will both be home sometime after five, so you shouldn't be there alone for too long.”

 

“I can come over and work on Harris' homework with you after school, if you want,” Derek offered, making Scott visibly relax at the thought of Stiles not having to spend _any_ time alone. The teen nodded in response, but did not say anything. Stiles knew that if he spoke, he would only end up bringing the news up again and freaking himself out once more. It was going to be a long day.

 

By the time school was let out that afternoon, Stiles had been talked down from several panic attacks before they actually occurred. If Scott was not at Stiles' side, then Derek was. Derek drove Stiles home while Scott headed to work. Neither teen really spoke in the car, nor once they got to the house past what needed to be said to get the homework done. It was easier than Stiles had anticipated, being that the homework was from Mr. Harris. He very much appreciated Derek’s help, however, knowing that if he had been there alone, he never would have gotten it done.

 

A conversation about lacrosse in the spring season (Derek did not play and he did not understand why Stiles did) eventually broke out, and Stiles distracted himself with that and the straightening up of the living room. That was until Derek stilled his hands by taking each one in one of his. “Stiles,” Derek said with a faint smile. “Stop. You're okay. Everything's going to be fine. We're going to... figure something out. They can't just... get away with this. It's _wrong_ and I’m sure more people will see that than will agree with the actions of those states.”

 

“What if you're wrong?” Stiles asked smally, keeping his gaze focused on where his and Derek’s hands were joined. “I can't lose them, Derek. They're my family. I...”

 

Stiles broke off when Derek gently tugged him forward by his hands in order to hug him close. Stiles pressed his face into the other teen's shoulder, wrapping both of his arms tightly around Derek. The slightly elder boy could feel the other practically shaking in his arms, and Derek had no real idea what to do. So, he just stood there and continued to hold the other teen until Stiles pulled away with a slight sniffle, wiping at his face with the crook of his elbow. “I'm sorry,” Stiles said with a soft laugh. “I'm being ridiculous.”

 

“You're being _scared_. It's understandable.” Derek, himself, would probably have one of those moments once he got back home with his family. They were all potentially in danger, after all. Derek had no idea if what was happening to those states on the other side of the country would ever become an issue for them, but he knew his mother well enough to know that she would be staging some kind of counter-measure. The world was changing, fast and in a terrible manner. Derek just wished it was easy and all he had to worry about was how to tell a crush that he liked them.

 

“The hunters have declared war, and now this? How is it even _constitutional_? I mean, did the national government just give the states right to imprison who knows how many of their occupants at the state's discretion?” Stiles was speaking more to himself than Derek at that point, trying to wrap his mind around just how the states could get away with their actions. He knew that there were potential werewolf laws at the national level; but, last he heard, there was no decision on them one way or another.

 

Derek sighed and finally stepped back from Stiles, running a hand through his hair. “The national government is staying out of werewolf control issues,” Derek said softly, which only made the knot in Stiles' stomach tighten at the information. “Mama said that the states are divided. There's a few she believes will _never_ okay something like what is happening in Georgia. We may relocate there if it seems California will join them. It's what she's going to discuss tonight. Your family would be welcome to go with us, too.”

 

Stiles nodded a few times, wringing his hands in front of him until Derek placed a single hand on them, stilling the action. “I need to think about something else,” Stiles said softly with a sigh, closing his eyes for a few moments. “Can we put on a movie?”

 

The two teens ended up sitting down and putting in the first _Lord of the Rings_ movie, though neither of them really paid attention to it. They spent more time talking about school, about Isaac living with Jackson (something Stiles was still kind of unsure about, but Isaac seemed happier anyway, so that was good), about Scott and Allison, and anything else that came to mind that did not involve the way that people were handling the (highly unnecessary, in both their opinions) werewolf control being implemented.

 

After a while, Derek tensed when Stiles absentmindedly rested his head against Derek’s shoulder, something he always did with whoever he was watching television with as he sank down lower on the couch to get comfortable. Derek slowly relaxed, a small smile on his face as he watched the movie on the television screen. Neither one of them moved until they heard the sounds of Melissa and John coming in through the front door. “I should head home for the meeting,” Derek stated.

 

“Oh, yeah,” replied Stiles, nodding as he ran a hand through his hair and sat up. “I'll see you at school tomorrow, then?”

 

Derek smirked as he was known to do while he stood up and gathered his school things. “Yeah, I’ll see you there, Stiles.”

 

The younger teen nodded with a soft sigh and saw Derek to the door before he went into the kitchen, where Melissa and John had gone to. “Scott's going to the Hales' after work,” he stated, taking the seat next to Melissa before grabbing her hand in his with a squeeze.

 

“We know,” replied Melissa, smiling softly at her step-son before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Scott told us; he also mentioned that you almost had a panic attack at school.”

 

Stiles worried at his lower lip and nodded a little, sighing softly as he ran his free hand through his hair. “It kind of... started, but Scott talked me down. I just, I dunno... everything that's going on. I freaked. I mean, that could be _us_.”

 

“It won't be,” John insisted with a slight shake of his head, smiling warmly at his son and wife while getting them each a glass of water. “And now is not the time for such worries. What do you want for dinner, kiddo?” The threat of everything continued to loom in the air, and they all knew that it would come up again that evening whenever Scott got home. Until then, however, the sheriff was determined to make the evening as normal as possible.


	7. Arc I, Seven: Faking It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles' dreams are bad, and something else happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Scott quietly shut the door behind him when he finally got back to the house. It was well after midnight, and he fully planned doing like he would usually do. He would climb into Stiles' bed, laying next to his brother, and tell the other teen all about the meeting. There were to be patrols every night by the adult werwolves in the pack, the students would continue to go to school with their heads held high. Nothing would change past them being more on alert. If it even seemed like California was going to pass the werewolf regulation laws, they would leave and go to a safe haven in a near-by state. Talia suggested they all have the necessities packed and ready to go, just in case. He would tell his parents in the morning, or that was his plan until he walked past the living room and saw both his mother and John sitting up on the couch, watching the news quietly.

 

So, he went in there and sat down on the floor in front of the couch facing them. He told them in detail about the meeting, and how Talia would not disclose to _anyone_ where the safe haven was, just in case there were some people who were untrustworthy around. Scott had sworn her eyes had landed on her younger brother, if only for a moment. Neither John nor Melissa seemed to be too thrilled with the plans of action that had been detailed, but they did not really see much else that could be done. Rebellion was staged quietly and a safety plan of getting everyone out was the biggest plan. Rebellion could happen after they were all safe. Melissa and John did not need Scott to say that Talia was including them in those who would leave if it became too dangerous; that was a given, after all.

 

After several more minutes of discussing everything, Scott made his way upstairs to Stiles' bedroom. He quietly walked into the room, but stopped when he noticed that Stiles was not still on his bed. The other teen's face was scrunched up as if he was in pain, one hand gripping the sheet twisted around him tightly enough that his knuckles were white. Whatever Stiles was dreaming about was no good. Scott quickly rushed to his best friend's side to try to wake him up, but before he could even get to Stiles, the other teen sat up on his bed and started screaming. “Stiles! Stiles, it's okay,” Scott insisted, grabbing Stiles' shoulders as he sat down next to the other teen on the bed.

 

John and Melissa came rushing into the room as Stiles stopped screaming, slowly realizing where he was and what was going on. His breath was a little too quick for Scott's liking and he could feel the other teen shaking underneath his hands. It had been several years since Stiles had woken up in a panic attack. John walked over to the bed while Melissa said something about getting Stiles some water before she rushed downstairs. “Stiles, son, you're okay,” John said softly but in a firm manner that left no room for argument. “Try to count for me.”

 

Stiles nodded a little between panted breaths, gripping on tightly to Scott's arm and one of his father's hands. He forced a breath out with each number that came out broken and shaky until he could finally breathe steadily and slowly. He was still shaking, but not like he had been, and at least the room no longer felt like it was spinning. “Sorry,” Stiles said in a raspy voice before smiling softly at Melissa in thanks as he took the glass of water she offered him.

 

“What happened, kiddo?” John asked after Stiles calmed down some more.

 

The teen worried at his lower lip and shook his head a little. “I don't really remember,” he said, though it was a lie and based on the way Scott frowned, his brother knew that.

 

Scott did not call him on it until they were alone, however, but Stiles still refused to tell Scott what had happened. He did not want to tell the other teen about having watched as his family was slaughtered, and most of the Hale family, including Derek. He did not want to think about it, and instead, he listened as Scott told him the different courses of action. Scott was going to pack his bag the next night, and he urged Stiles to do the same; just in case. Stiles nodded a little, running his fingers through his hair. He was not sure what he was going to do; but, he figured that agreeing would keep Scott from looking at him sadly again. “Hey, uhm, thanks for letting me know about everything,” he said with a faint, though saddened smile. “I think I'mma try to get back to sleep, though.”

 

“Yeah, alright,” replied Scott with a nod. He fiddled with the string on his hoodie for a moment, watching Stiles before asking, “D'you want me to stay here?”

 

The slightly younger teen let out a heavy breath. He was not sure. He always felt better knowing his family was close by, but he would also not want Scott so near if he had another nightmare. The last thing he wanted was to wake anyone else up with how late it was already. After a moment, Stiles shook his head a little. “Thanks, but nah. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Okay. Actually try to sleep, yeah?”

 

Scott smirked a little as he fondly ruffled Stiles' hair despite the other teen's groan of protest. “Yeah, I will. Night, Scotty.”

 

The next morning, they did not talk about Stiles' nightmare, nor did he tell them that he had not gone back to sleep. Instead, he acted like he had just woken up as he shuffled downstairs for a breakfast of his favorite type of flavored oatmeal while Scott had a bowl of cereal. Once he was done eating and he'd said good-bye to his dad who had gone on to work, Stiles went upstairs to get ready for school. He simply ran a hand through his hair, not caring about it past that, after tugging on his hoodie for the day. Then, he grabbed his backpack and waited for Scott downstairs.

 

Once they were both ready, the two teens headed out to the Jeep. Stiles winced a little as he hopped into the car, the action causing his leg to hurt a bit more than what was comfortable. The look Scott shot him let him know that his brother was well aware of the fact he was trying to hide and deny the pain he was feeling. “You working tonight?” Stiles asked, putting his focus on driving instead of the way that his leg continued to bother him. Apparently not sleeping very still was not a good thing. Stiles noticed Scott reaching out to place a hand on his arm, but the younger teen flinched away before contact was made. “Don't.”

 

“Stiles...” Scott said with a sigh, brow furrowing as he watched his best friend. “You're hurting again.”

 

“I'm fine,” insisted Stiles with a resolute nod. After a moment of Scott just staring at him, Stiles sighed heavily, turning onto the road that would take them to the school. “Just... I’m fine. I can handle this. I _need_ to handle things on my own.”

 

Scott seemed reluctant to agree, but after another moment, he did. He wanted to be able to help the other teen, but if Stiles really did not want it, he was not going to _force_ anything. “Yeah, I am working after school. Allison’s giving me a ride, so you don't have to wait around.”

 

Stiles nodded a little and let out a breath he did not even realize he had been holding. The rest of the ride to the school was quiet, save the music playing quietly on the radio. Once they got to the school, they made their way inside and Stiles took a deep breath, readjusting his backpack straps on his shoulders. He did not want to be there, but he did not really have a choice. He would just have to fake it like nothing was wrong. They'd not made it very far into the building when Scott caught sight of Allison, making him smile in that dopey manner that Stiles often teased him for. He was about to tell Scott to go on when he heard Derek behind him say, “Hey, Stiles.”

 

He stopped and turned to see Derek looking at him with an expression that seemed to try to be neutral while seeming more concerned than anything. “Hi,” Stiles replied with a tired smile, turning to tell Scott he'd see him later before the other teen went over to talk to Allison.

 

“Are you okay?” Much like with the look on his face, Derek could not quite keep the concern out of his voice when he spoke; it made Stiles smile slightly.

 

With a heavy breath, Stiles lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug. “Sure.” His answer was quick, neutral to a point that it was not exactly a lie but it was not fully the truth, either. School was not the place to talk about everything that was bothering him, though. The last thing he needed was the wrong person overhearing. Derek seemed to understand that without Stiles having to elaborate any, if the nod Stiles received in response was anything to go by, which he was definitely thankful for. “Are you busy after school?”

 

Derek shook his head at the question as he and Stiles started to walk over to their shared locker so that Stiles could put up what he did not need. “No. Wanna work on Harris' homework again?”

 

“Yeah, I don't get the words that come out of his mouth. It's like gibberish or something,” replied Stiles, grumbling slightly under his breath about stupid teachers as he put his unneeded textbooks into his locker. “Do you ever take anything home? I mean, how come you never have stuff when I see you?”

 

The other teen chuckled, idly spinning the basketball in his hand, rolling one of his shoulders in a shrug. “I come in early. Practice, running a bit.”

 

“Oh, yeah. You're Mr. Basketball Star. I almost forgot.” Stiles smirked a little as he spoke, turning to face Derek while stepping out of the way so that the other teen could grab his things for chemistry. “Season doesn't start until the spring, yeah?”

 

“Mmhmm. D'you play?” Derek shut the locker door once he had grabbed what he needed, shoving the basketball into the locker as well.

 

Stiles laughed with a shake of his head, lifting one hand to run through his hair a couple of times. “Nah. I’m more of a lacrosse person; er, I was.”

 

Derek winced faintly as he and Stiles started to walk toward their classroom as the bell rang. He had almost forgotten that Stiles would not actually be playing lacrosse that year because of his leg. Sure, he was doing better; but, his range of motion was still fairly limited and the strain of a game would be more likely to add to the damage. “Sorry,” Derek said, smiling faintly as they walked into Harris' classroom.

 

As Derek and Stiles took their usual seats near the front, Isaac and Jackson sat at their station near the back. Both teens looked exhausted, sitting a little farther apart than usual. Stiles made a mental note to question Isaac about it later. Knowing Jackson, they had probably just gotten into a fight over something stupid and was being a baby about it. Stiles did not even care that his thoughts were not very nice; Jackson was not very nice (to anyone that was not Isaac, anyway). So, fair was fair. Stiles' focus was so far from school that day, even Derek’s usual attempts at getting him to pay attention (which, when did that become a normal thing that Stiles did not even _mind_?) did not do anything to help.

 

At lunch that day, Stiles basically just sat there and poked at his food, laughing half-heartedly when Aiden shared a joke with the table. It seemed to go unnoticed, which Stiles was thankful for. He did not want weird looks or questions. Isaac sat with Jackson that day, which Stiles was also thankful for. Isaac would have called him out on his acting, after all. However, as Stiles watched Isaac sitting at Jackson’s table, he could tell that his friend was not very happy. Isaac was not talking with anyone, sitting kind of low in his seat while not even touching his plate.

 

Stiles did not sit there for too long before he got up and went over to where Jackson and Isaac sat. Ignoring the glare that Jackson sent him, Stiles smiled at Isaac and gently tugged on his arm. “C'mon,” Stiles said, “let's get outta here.”

 

Isaac seemed to debate his options, but after a moment, Isaac got up and followed Stiles out of the cafeteria. “Are you okay?” Stiles asked as they kept walking past the picnic benches outside. Stiles was not going to sit through one more hour of school. He did think ahead enough to shoot a text at Scott, and then sent one to Derek asking if the other teen could bring his homework if he was still coming over later.

 

The curly-haired teen wet his lips and shook his head with a shrug as he sighed and sank down low in his seat while Stiles started up the Jeep. “Jackson and I have been fighting,” he said quietly. “He doesn't like that I keep hanging out with you guys. I know... I _know_ he's just worried; but, he's being a dick.”

 

“Of course he's being a dick,” Stiles replied. “Danny may have been his best friend, but he still comes from prejudiced parents. He's going to be stuck on those thoughts, and, well... you know the company I keep.”

 

“Doesn't give him right to talk shit.” Isaac scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was so very thankful for Jackson and the other boy's parents for giving him a place to live, a way to get away from his father. But, there was no way he was just going to let Jackson talk crap about one of the few people he was actually close to. “I don't think he'd care if it was just _Scott_ , but...”

 

Stiles sighed heavily and nodded. While he did not agree with Jackson’s point of view, it was not one that surprised Stiles any. After all, Jackson knew that even as a werewolf that Scott would have to be pushed _hard_ before he so much as hurt a fly. “At least he worries, I guess.” Stiles shrugged a little, reaching over with one hand to squeeze Isaac’s arm before grabbing a hold of the steering wheel again. “Still, do I need to teach him a lesson on word choice?”

 

Isaac laughed softly, resting his head back against the rest behind it. “Yeah, maybe.” Isaac idly wet his lips again, glancing over at his friend while Stiles got them even closer to the Stilinski-McCall home. “What about you? Are _you_ okay?”

 

The shorter teen groaned a little at the question as he pulled into the driveway, not surprised to see Melissa’s car out front. She had an earlier shift, after all. “That's more of a difficult question,” replied Stiles. He would probably explain later, but for the time being, he and Isaac were more focused on going inside and avoiding being scolded by Melissa. However, the scolding never came. She understood the need to get away from all of the pressures at the school, especially for Stiles after his hectic sleep attempt the evening before.

 

The two teens sat in the living room talking with Melissa, discussing the plans from Talia's resistance including the possibility of running if things grew that dire. Time seemed to flow quickly as the three of them talked, and before any of them realized, it was sometime after school had been let out when the doorbell rang. “I've got it,” Stiles said as he got up from the couch, going over to answer the door. “Oh, hey, De-- Is that blood?”

 

Derek blinked and glanced down at himself, only then realizing that there was a blood pattern across the front of his shirts, jeans, and probably on his face and neck as well. “Oh, yeah,” he replied quietly before quickly looking back to Stiles. “I'm fine. I’m, uh... actually here to talk to Isaac. Blood's not mine; it's Jackson’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is fairly short. It just felt like a good place to leave the chapter. Mwhaha. Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger. >:D


	8. Arc I, Eight: Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which what happened to Jackson is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Stiles just stared blankly at Derek for a few moments before he pushed Derek back away from the door and stepped outside onto the porch, closing the door behind him. “What do you mean it's _Jackson’s_?” Stiles all but hissed at the other teen. “What happened?”

 

“It'...There was an attack,” Derek explained slowly, carefully choosing his words. “He's... He'll be fine, but he's asking for Isaac so Mom sent me here.”

 

Stiles' face paled a little. Talia was involved, that meant one of two things. Jackson was attacked by a hunter thinking he was a werewolf, or... well, either way it was not a good thing. Stiles nodded slowly, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, okay. Alright. Uhm, yeah, let's go get Isaac, then.”

 

With a soft sigh, Stiles led Derek inside and Isaac’s brow lifted when they walked into the living room. “Why d'you have blood on you?” Isaac asked Derek before darting his gaze between the other two teens, both of whom looked worried about something. “What's going on? Stiles?”

 

“We... we have to go, Isaac,” Stiles answered, wetting his lips absentmindedly as Melissa came into the room. “Jackson's hurt, and... well, he's asking for you.”

 

The color completely drained from Isaac’s face, and he looked as though he was going to be sick; but, he nodded and stood up. “Yeah, where is he?”

 

Melissa squeezed Stiles' shoulder gently as the teens started to leave the house and he smiled faintly at her before they actually left. No words were said, Melissa did not feel they needed to be. She knew Stiles would be back as soon as he could. None of the teens said anything either as they got into the Hale twins' Camaro and Derek drove them out to the Hale house. “Is he okay?” Isaac asked Derek in a small voice as they pulled into the long drive.

 

“He will be,” answered the slightly older teen honestly, nodding a little while glancing at Isaac in the back seat through the rear-view mirror before looking to the road again.

 

“What happened?” Isaac’s voice sounded shaky in a way that made Stiles want to climb into the back seat and hug his friend, but he would settle for hugging him once they got out of the car.

 

“A pack from upstate has decided to... well, if we're to be treated like animals, they said they'll give the humans animals,” explained Derek quietly. “They've been attacking random humans up and down the coast. One of them got to Jackson after school. I tried to help, but... We got him to the house as soon as we could, and Mom... well, there was nothing else we could do, so she offered him... y'know.”

 

Isaac nodded, worrying at his lower lip. “He said yes.” There was no question to the statement. If Jackson had an option to live or die, he knew that the other teen would do what he could to keep living. “It took.”

 

“Yeah. He's gonna stay with us for a while, so we can teach him control and how to defend himself. His parents just think he's on an extended stay here so we have more time to work on a class project.” Derek parked the car as Isaac nodded a little in understanding.

 

Stiles and Derek got out of the car, Stiles shifting the seat enough to allow Isaac to climb out of the car as well. The curly-haired teen rushed inside then, before Stiles had a chance to give the hug he wanted to. Stiles sighed softly, resting his forehead against the top of the car for a moment until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Derek standing there and he smiled faintly. “This is all going to be bad, isn't it?” he asked softly.

 

“We'll make it through,” replied Derek with a confidence he did not really feel. He was just as scared as Stiles was, if he were honest.

 

Meanwhile, inside the house, Laura was leading Isaac to the room that Jackson was using. The teen immediately rushed to his boyfriend's side, hugging Jackson tightly. He sighed softly and wrapped both arms around Isaac in turn. “Are you okay?” Isaac mumbled into Jackson’s shoulder. He knew the medical answer, but was more interested in what Jackson felt about everything. He may physically been okay, but as a teen who had, as of that morning, been completely against the whole werewolf thing the entire situation had to be daunting.

 

“Sure,” replied Jackson off-handedly, focusing enough on Isaac to keep himself calm while idly running a hand along the other teen's back. Every time he thought about what was going on, he got so angry. He'd already broken five pieces of furniture. Isaac, however, was the one thing he did not have any worry about breaking. The thought alone grounded him so much that he could not even think of shifting. Protecting Isaac had been an instinct for a while by that point, it had only grown stronger since the events of that afternoon. The change had not even completely taken yet. He was still mostly human, but subtle changes like his strength had already begun. Talia had said it was a good sign. If the way he could hear Isaac’s heartbeat almost erratically in his ears was any sign, then his senses were strengthening as well. Isaac was practically shaking in his arms, Jackson was sure he was subconsciously playing through what possibly happened at the school. “Stop, Isaac.” He pulled away enough to press a kiss to the other teen's forehead before looking at him. “I'll... adjust. This isn't exactly my idea of a picnic.”

 

“At least you're still here.” Isaac replied with a nod, still clinging to Jackson as if he were afraid the other teen was going to disappear if he loosened his grip any.

 

“Yeah. I've reason to, though.” Jackson smiled faintly, one of those small yet honest smiles that Isaac wished he got to see more often and not just when they were alone. “I'm sorry, about... the fights and everything. I just... I didn't want you wrapped up in all of this.”

 

“I know. You're still an asshole.”

 

Isaac nodded, and Jackson chuckled softly as the other teen hugged him tightly once again, forehead resting on Jackson’s shoulder. “Yeah, but 'm your asshole.” Isaac smiled softly at the words, nodding a little in agreement, content to just stand there with Jackson, reminding himself that the other teen was _there_.

 

Down in the kitchen, Stiles sat with the Hale pack sans Derek, who was taking a shower upstairs; they were discussing the events of the day. “What's going to happen if the Argents find out about what happened?” Stiles finally asked, voicing the one question that everyone had but none seemed willing to actually speak up with.

 

Talia's soft expression turned from where Cora sat to the human boy in the room, regarding him for a moment before she spoke. “I am not sure,” she replied in a voice that was both soft but still authoritative. “It could be the very ammo they need to drive us out. It is possible that this is the catalyst they are waiting for. Laura is keeping an eye on the capitol. If we need to leave, we'll know before anything can happen.”

 

Stiles nodded a little with a slightly heavy breath, looking every bit as exhausted as they all felt. He was not sure what to think. A part of him was just relieved that Jackson was going to be okay, even if he was an asshole; but, for the most part, he wished the whole thing just did not happen. They then discussed possible plans of action, Talia reminding everyone that they needed to be ready to leave town at a moment's notice. By the time Derek returned downstairs, the mini-meeting had broken up; Allison and Talia were in the kitchen working on making dinner for everyone. Stiles sat in the living room, talking quietly to Scott while Cora was watching the younger children in the playroom.

 

Derek stopped at the doorway to the living room, debating on whether or not to go in there. Laura, of course, took that opportunity to go over and annoy her baby brother, knowing that Scott was too focused on Stiles to really hear. They really needed to work on his multitasking. “You should tell him,” Laura said as she nudged Derek with her elbow, ignoring the way that the teen glared at her.

 

“Tell who what?” replied Derek, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Laura simply rolled her eyes with an amused smirk. “Don't play dumb with me, Derek. I know you better than you think I do.” She reached over and ruffled Derek’s hair despite his protests and attempts to stop her. “For real, though. You should tell him; you might not have another chance, kiddo. Things are relatively calm for now; but, we don't know if we'll even be in Beacon Hills tomorrow. Shitty time for you to fall for someone; but, you haven't ever really had good timing.”

 

“Gee, thanks.” Derek rolled his eyes as well, something that many people thought of as being a very common Hale family trait.

 

“It's true, though. I’m not going to lie to you and pretend that everything's alright. We're on the brink of all out war, something that never has a happy ending for any parties involved.” Laura shook her head a little before smiling softly at her brother. “So, do us all a favor and just tell him.”

 

\---

 

That night, Scott and Stiles ended up staying at the Hale house after they called their parents to let them know. Scott crashed on the living room floor with Allison sleeping on the couch, one arm draped over the side so she could hold Scott's hand as they slept. Laura took a photo of the two of them on her phone and set it as her background, announcing that they were too cute. The other betas all went to their respective homes, promising to leave their cell phones on in case they needed to be reached. Jackson and Isaac did not leave Jackson’s room except to use the bathroom. Talia brought them food and spent several hours in there talking to the two teens.

 

“How can we keep going to school like nothing's wrong?” Stiles asked Derek as they two of them changed in Derek’s room, backs to one another the entire time. Derek’s clothes were just slightly too big for Stiles, but not enough that he swam in them or anything; just a loose, comfortable fit. He turned back around to look at the other teen, just as Derek finished tugging on a t-shirt. “I mean, I don't want anyone to drive us out or anything; but, still. I feel like a walking target every time I step foot in there.”

 

“Have you told your parents that?” Derek asked as he sat down on his bed. Stiles shook his head with a shrug as he took a seat on Derek’s desk chair. “Why not?”

 

“Because they'd pull me out without hesitation. I mean, I don't _like_ it; but, I don't want the Argents to win that easily, either. They won't scare me away that easily.” Stiles shook his head, chin lifted slightly in a defiant manner as if he had to prove himself to Derek or something.

 

Derek sighed softly and nodded a little in understanding. Honestly, he had no idea what was going to happen, but the lingering threat of war had them all on edge. They could lose their freedom, or worse, their lives, simply because they were different. In Stiles' case, it was not even the fact that he was different but simply because he did not care that those around him were different. “Just be careful, Stiles,” Derek said after a moment. “I really don't want to have to see you in a hospital again.” The last time had been terrible enough as it was.

 

“I make no promises.” Stiles laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender when Derek glared at him in response. “I can promise to try to not end up there again; but, with my luck...” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, idly shifting the seat side-to-side as he sat there.

 

“Maybe we should just put you in a bubble,” Derek all but mumbled, making Stiles laugh once again, an honest smile forming on his face.

 

“You and my dad would both agree on that.” Stiles nodded a little, still smiling as Derek did slightly as well. “Pretty sure I’d figure out a way to get hurt still, though.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, though he smiled a little as he said, “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

 

“What can I say? I’ve got skills.” Stiles laughed as Derek threw a pillow in his direction, which hit his knees as it landed there before falling to the floor. “Nice aim, Mr. Basketball Star.”

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

Almost an hour later, Talia quietly left Jackson’s room after Isaac had fallen asleep curled up at Jackson’s side. She was not sure how well Jackson would adjust to his new abilities; but, it was clear to her that the teen already had his anchor, and keeping Isaac around would be the easiest way of keeping Jackson in control. She stopped in to check on each of her children as she passed their bedrooms, finding them each sleeping soundly. Talia paused in Derek’s doorway, slowly smiling when she found both Derek and Stiles asleep on the bed. There was a definite distance between the two teens to the point it was obvious they had purposely tried to not touch, except for the fact that they had their hands linked between them, one hand each. Derek’s other hand rested on Stiles' wrist, something that seemed like an absentminded gesture. Talia had half a mind to make them sleep in separate rooms, even though they were only friends (for the time being, she told herself), but the fact that they were both asleep peacefully and the door _was_ open made her simply continue on downstairs in order to make herself a cup of tea as she sat in the kitchen with her husband.

 

\---

 

Things slowly seemed to go back to normal after that. There were no more attacks in Beacon Hills, and there was no news from the capitol on new movements. California was still in its state of non-issue with werewolves. The Argents continued trying to get that to change, but there was no talk on the attack on Jackson, who went back to school sooner than anyone thought he would be able to. Isaac was a great asset to his control. Jackson continued to sit with his human friends, making jokes at the others' expense; but, everyone knew by that point that it was simply to keep up appearances. Someone would think something was up if he suddenly switched tables and behaviors.

 

Danny and Ethan broke up again, but it only lasted two days before they were back together. Erica informed Stiles that they broke up every few months, and usually for something ridiculous. There was too much ego and testosterone in their relationship, according to the blonde beta. “So, got a date for homecoming?” Cora Hale asked Stiles about a week before the dance, suddenly appearing at his side, which made him jump and hit his knee on his locker.

 

“Shit, _fuck_ ,” Stiles groaned, reaching down to place a hand on his knee, rubbing it as he looked over to the Hale twin. “What?”

 

Cora smirked and arched an eyebrow at Stiles, leaning against the lockers as she said, “I asked if you had a date for homecoming.”

 

Stiles brow arched as he shut his locker and looked to her again. “If that's your way of asking, I’m gonna have to say 'no'.”

 

Cora rolled her eyes with a long-suffering sigh as she pushed herself upright, walking with Stiles toward the cafeteria. “I'm going with Lydia, dumbass,” she replied, though the words were said more kindly than they should have been. Stiles suddenly found himself afraid as Cora linked her arm with his.

 

“Okay. Why do you care, then?” asked Stiles as they continued walking, him keeping his pace slow to match hers.

 

“Because I want to know if my idiot brother asked you yet.”

 

Cora smirked wickedly as Stiles practically choked on an overly sharp intake of breath. “What? No. I mean, we're just friends.” Stiles squirmed a bit, attempting to slip his arm out of Cora’s grasp, but her nails simply pressed into his skin a little.

 

“Uh-huh. Friends, right. Maybe you should just ask him, in case he doesn't work up the nerve.” Cora smiled brightly as the two of them entered the cafeteria and she let go of Stiles to walk over to their table, where she sat down next to Lydia, pressing a kiss to the red-head's cheek.

 

Stiles let out a heavy breath that he did not realize he was holding and ran a hand through his hair, standing there for a moment before he went over to sit at the table with the others. It was only when lunch was half-way over and Stiles had barely touched the food that Melissa had packed for him that morning that he realized Derek was not sitting at the table. “Where's Derek?” Stiles asked Boyd, who lifted his shoulder in a shrug, his other arm draped around Erica’s waist.

 

“He's in the library,” answered Erica with a grin that made Stiles almost immediately regret asking. He needed better friends; no really, he did.

 

He nodded a little and continued to sit there for several more minutes before he got up and threw away what food he did not eat. Then, he made his way to the library, his hands in his hoodie pockets as he went. Stiles found Derek sitting at one of the back tables, working on an essay, probably the one for world history. Without a word, Stiles dropped down into the seat across from Derek, knowing that the other teen would already know he was there even before he reached the table. “Feeling anti-social today?” Stiles asked with a slight smile.

 

“Just busy with homework,” answered Derek, not lifting his eyes from the textbook in front of him.

 

“You know that's not due for two weeks, right?” Stiles arched a brow and rolled his eyes fondly when Derek nodded in answer. “Should I just leave you alone then.”

 

“You don't have to.”

 

Stiles smiled and nudged Derek underneath the table with his foot, making the other teen finally look up at him. “Sure you're okay, dude?” It struck Stiles then that it was nice at school for once, _normal_. They'd had several days of just being teenagers, not worrying about a looming war. They'd all been worried about school dances and homework and who was dating who. Stiles hoped it would just continue to stay that way.

 

“Yeah, I’m just... avoiding the cafeteria.” Derek pulled a slight face as he said it, and Stiles' brow furrowed a little in confusion and inquisition. Derek laughed a little and shrugged as he said, “Tina, that beta with the curly blonde hair? She keeps trying to ask me to the dance. 'Ve already said no.”

 

“Ah, yeah. Good reason to avoid it.” Stiles nodded a little, idly ruffling his hair with one hand as he thought back over what Cora had said to him earlier. Maybe she did have a point; maybe. Stiles wet his lips and was about to say something about it when the bell ringing for their next class cut him off and drowned out his sigh. “Guess it's time to get back to teachers molding our minds and all that jazz.”

 

“Guess so.” Derek nodded, gathering his things before the two of them started to walk out of the library and head to their next class.

 

When they got to the classroom, Derek grabbed Stiles' arm to stop him, making the other teen stop to look at him only then realizing how close they were. It should have been much too close for comfort, but it wasn't. “What?” Stiles asked, smiling faintly at the other teen.

 

Derek opened his mouth to reply, but then, Scott was suddenly there, dragging Stiles the last few steps into their shared classroom while going on about something that Allison had said. Stiles laughed and rolled his eyes fondly, sitting at a table with Scott while Derek went to sit at his usual table. Derek would just try again later, he decided as Stiles smiled apologetically at him from across the room before the other teen focused on Scott once again.


	9. Arc I, Nine: The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Isaac helps Jackson escape, and Stiles figures at least one thing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

“Shit,” Scott said suddenly in the class period following, turning in his seat to look at Stiles at the desk behind him. “I didn't interrupt something with you and Derek, did I?”

 

Stiles could not keep from laughing at the look on his brother's face. It was not uncommon for him to be _that_ unaware of the world around him when something else pertained to Allison. “Not really? I mean, he was trying to say something, I think but...” replied Stiles with a shrug of his shoulders. “S'no big deal. If it was important, he'll tell me later. We're working on homework for Harris after school.”

 

Scott nodded a little, though he still seemed slightly upset by the whole situation (really, he was more bothered by it than Stiles was, which kind of confused Stiles). Of course, Scott's attempt at an apology was cut short when their teacher said, “If the two girls in the back are done gossiping about their hair, we can start the lesson.” Both Stiles and Scott glared at the man, one who could easily be Harris' long-lost brother, but the lesson began and neither one said another word.

 

Meanwhile, across the school Isaac frowned when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The only people that would be texting him should have been in class at the moment. He tried to ignore that, but it only lasted a moment before he got up, grabbed his bag, and left the classroom, ignoring his teacher telling him to sit down. Isaac pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the message. It was from Danny, telling him that Jackson had run out of their classroom. Danny also gave him which bathroom Jackson had locked himself into. Isaac then quickly started to walk to the bathroom, putting his phone into his jeans pocket.

 

Once he got to the bathroom, he knocked on the door. “Jackson, open the door. Please,” Isaac said quietly, knowing that Jackson could hear him. “Jack, c'mon.” It took several moments longer, but Isaac finally heard the sound of the door unlocking. He quietly slipped into the room, locking the door behind him once again. “What's going on?” Isaac set his backpack down on the floor near the door, watching Jackson, who stood across the room, leaning back against one of the sinks. His eyes still held a golden hue and if he could see Jackson’s hands, he was sure there'd be claws there.

 

“There was this kid in class, running his mouth about everything, and I almost...” replied Jackson quietly, letting out a huff of breath through his nose. He was still so mad that he was practically shaking, wanting distance between himself and Isaac out of fear of hurting the other boy, even though he never had even during that crucial time when he was in the middle of changing and not in full control of his anger. Jackson tensed a little, realizing that Isaac was still walking over to him. “Don't.”

 

Isaac just sighed softly, but did not listen. He only stopped walking when he was standing directly in front of Jackson. “We've been through this, Jack,” the curly-haired teen, a faint hint of amusement in his voice. “You're not going to hurt me.” Jackson said nothing, just moved his arms to grip either side of the sink behind him with his hands. Isaac simultaneously used one hand to tilt Jackson’s head upward and ducked down enough for their lips to meet in a gentle kiss. He could feel the other teen remain tense next to him, but that only lasted several moments before Jackson relaxed again. Isaac pulled away with a small smile, and when Jackson opened his eyes, they faded back to their normal color.

 

Jackson was still angry, still wanted to go rip the head off of the kid in his class who had no idea what he was talking about; but, Isaac was right there, and very easily broken and the thought of accidentally hurting the other teen once again made it so that he could not even so much as think of shifting. Jackson let go of the sink to wrap both arms around Isaac’s waist, pulling his boyfriend flush against his front. “What would I do without you?” he asked softly, a smile tugging on his lips as he spoke.

 

The other teen hummed a little, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “Let's not find out, shall we?” He smiled when Jackson nodded in agreement before wrapping his arms around Jackson in turn, hugging him tightly. “Maybe we should think about switching schedule around so we're in all the same classes.”

 

“Yeah? Sure you won't get sick of me?” Jackson’s question was teasing, the tone in his voice light, but Isaac knew Jackson well enough by then to know there was an honest uncertainty there. They did live together, after all, and did not have much chance for time apart.

 

“Nah. Besides, I can always run over to Stiles' if I need to get away, which, y'know, isn't going to happen.” Isaac wanted to be sure that Jackson was well aware of that fact. He knew that Jackson would not stop him if he did want to leave, and that was part of why he did not mind spending so much time with the other teen. Jackson respected him and wanted him to be happy; it was a good thing that Jackson was one of the things that did that. “We've got history last period, right?”

 

Jackson nodded a little, idly letting one of his hands rest on Isaac’s back underneath his t-shirt, just taking comfort in feeling the other teen's warm skin against his own. He had never had that with someone before, a relationship where just being there next to them, knowing they were happy and healthy was enough. “Yeah.”

 

Isaac gently squeezed the other teen, keeping his arms firmly around Jackson’s torso. “Let's just go home,” he suggested, with a nod of his own. “Talia said that she thinks you can, now; and, we can always go back to the Hale's if it's too much.”

 

“Yeah, alright. Let's go home.” Jackson stood there for another few moments, just holding Isaac close before he finally unwrapped his arms from the other teen, allowing him to step away. Isaac grabbed his hand while stepping back, linking their fingers together between them. Jackson picked up Isaac’s backpack, making him smile softly as he unlocked the door and the two of them made their way into the hall as the bell signaling class change rang.

 

They did not say a word as they left the school, though once they were in the car, Isaac sent a quick text to their friends to let the others know that they were leaving. He did not want any of them to get the wrong idea and freak out or something. Jackson let Isaac pick the radio station, and he smiled a little when the curly-haired teen sang softly along with the song playing, probably forgetting that Jackson could actually hear him still. Both teens were glad that Jackson’s parents weren't home when they got to the house a couple of minutes later; it just meant they had more time before being faced with the awkwardness of the lies given to explain their absence from the house.

 

Once inside the house, Isaac double and triple checked the locks (a habit that Jackson noticed but did not comment on) before turning to face Jackson with a smile. “So... shower or movie?” Isaac questioned, knowing that either one would be a great way at distracting Jackson from the day and what could have happened. Isaac liked to focus on the fact that Jackson did not hurt the other student; that was a good thing, in his opinion. He knew his boyfriend, however, and knew that Jackson would be dwelling on that _almost_ for a while. Either way, warm showers or distracting movies were always great options to try to get his mind off of things.

 

“Either,” Jackson replied with a shrug as he reached out to grab Isaac by the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward. The blue-eyed boy laughed softly as he followed the direction, and he wrapped his arms around Jackson’s neck, one hand idly toying with the other teen's hair. “You pick.”

 

“Me pick? Hmm... I--” Isaac cut off with a gasp and a laugh when Jackson suddenly picked him up, one hand underneath each of his thighs. He easily wrapped his legs around the other boy's waist and let Jackson carry him upstairs that way. Isaac still was not used to things like that. Sure, Jackson could have lifted him up before, but never that easily. Isaac was not exactly light. “Movie,” Isaac finally answered when they were almost to the bedroom, nodding a little as he continued to run his fingers through the short hair on the back of Jackson’s head. “Your pick for that, though.” Isaac nodded with a grin before pressing a kiss to the corner of Jackson’s mouth.

 

“Alright.” Jackson nodded as he carried Isaac over to the bed and all but dropped the other teen on top of it (chuckling at the soft _oof!_ From the other teen as he landed) before he went to grab his laptop and a random movie off of the shelf.

 

As he carried them over to the bed, he watched while Isaac tugged off his shoes and jeans (“What? I’m probably going to fall asleep, and I’m not sleeping in jeans,” the other teen said.) with an amused smirk on his face. Jackson simply shook his head at the question and set aside the laptop before bending down enough to kiss his boyfriend again. Isaac smiled slightly into the kiss, reaching up with one hand to brush his fingers along Jackson’s jawline absentmindedly. “What was that for?” he asked as Jackson broke the kiss, sitting down next to Isaac.

 

“Just for being here,” replied Jackson as he opened the laptop and turned it on, almost surprised at how much he actually meant that. There for the longest time he had worried whether or not he would actually see Isaac again after the other teen had gone to his house; he'd worried that whatever was going on between them was not going to last. With everything that had happened, though, it slowly became clear to Jackson that Isaac was not planning on going anywhere. He was definitely okay with that.

 

Isaac smiled as he settled down onto the bed more, his head resting on one of the overly fluffy pillows. “Be careful, or I might just have enough ammo to prove to everyone you really are a sweetheart,” Isaac teased, nudging the other teen with his elbow lightly. Jackson just smiled in response, though, as he finished setting up the movie.

 

It was some mindless action flick with too many explosions and too little clothing for Isaac’s taste, but he knew the mind-numbingness of it was a quick way to help Jackson just forget everything else. So, he did not complain as Jackson set the laptop on the bedside table, turning it so they could see the screen from the bed, and turning the volume up. Instead, he just smiled at Jackson again when the other teen moved to lay behind him while they both faced the screen. Jackson’s chin rested on Isaac’s shoulder, arm around the other teen's middle while their joined hands rested against Isaac’s stomach. They often ended up laying like that, and at some point, Jackson’s leg would end up thrown over Isaac’s as well, curling back underneath it in a way that kept Isaac pressed close to him. Isaac’s favorite was the times he would end up asleep with his head on Jackson’s chest, the other teen's fingers carding through his curly hair; but, that moment was not about him, it was about Jackson and comforting him.

 

Isaac let go of Jackson’s hand after a few minutes, only to run his fingers repeatedly over Jackson’s hand and arm, letting his boyfriend's hand rest on his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. He continued with it as the movie went on until he finally drifted off to sleep, feeling warm and safe in Jackson’s arms. Jackson smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to Isaac’s jaw, taking comfort in the fact that Isaac was right there and he was safe, and that he had not hurt that kid in class earlier. Everything was going to be alright, he told himself, closing his eyes as he stayed as close as possible to his boyfriend. “I love you, Zac,” Jackson mumbled, despite the fact that Isaac was already asleep. Maybe with a little more time, he would be able to bring himself to say it while Isaac was awake.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Stiles! Wait up,” Derek called over the din of the hallway as he jogged to catch up with the other teen. Stiles stopped walking and turned to face him, waiting there until Derek caught up. “Can I ride over there with you? Cora’s gotta get the kids and Allison needs the other car.”

 

“Yeah, sure. C'mon,” answered Stiles with a smile and a nod before jerking his head a little toward the doors that led to the parking lot. “So, uh, Scott only realized that he'd maybe interrupted you talking earlier in the class period _after_ that.”

 

Derek laughed a little, the sound almost seeming slightly embarrassed, though Stiles was not sure why. “That doesn't really surprise me. He was going on about Allison again.”

 

Both teens laughed softly, but let the subject drop as they fell into a companionable silence that lasted the entire drive to the Stilinski-McCall home that was only broken by the sound of the radio playing softly. Still, neither one _said_ anything until after they'd gone inside and sat down to work on their homework. Once again, Derek was perhaps too close for it to have been comfortable, but Stiles paid that no mind as they worked on the assignment from Harris. Derek’s arm was practically around the slightly younger teen when they finished and Stiles idly tapped his pencil on the top of his textbook. “Earlier when you stopped me in the hall?” he said after a moment of quiet, keeping his focus on the textbook in front of him instead of looking over at Derek.

 

“Yeah?” Derek replied, setting aside his own book since the work was done. He watched Stiles carefully, trying to figure out just what the other boy was attempting to say. The fact that Stiles had not pulled away any seemed to be a good sign in his opinion, though. He only hoped that it continued.

 

“Were you trying to ask me to the dance?” Stiles fought the urge to flinch even as the words came out of his mouth, seriously hoping that Cora had not been attempting to humiliate him or something earlier, and that there was something to the events of the day.

 

Stiles' heart almost started to drop as Derek remained silent, but after a moment the other teen said, “What if I was?”

 

Stiles then let out a laugh that was more breath than sound, smiling faintly as he stilled his pencil but still did not look over at Derek. “Then, I’d be very ticked off that you let Scott...” He trailed off when Derek grabbed his chin and turned his face so that they were facing one another in order to lean in and kiss him on the lips. It was a gentle kiss, a barely-there brush of lips but Stiles still felt his breath catch at the action because, well, he found it difficult to believe that it actually happened.

 

“`Ve wanted to do that since I met you,” admitted Derek quietly as he pulled away enough to look at the teen sitting next to him.

 

Stiles laughed softly, the sound filled with slight disbelief despite the smile on his face. “You should have; I would have been _very_ on board with that idea.” Stiles was a little surprised to find that he meant it, too. While he may not have really had a thing for Derek until after they started to get to know one another, he had always just wanted to kiss the other boy because Derek was _that_ gorgeous. “You're not getting out of taking me to the dance, now, y'know.” Stiles flashed a cheeky grin as Derek laughed softly with a shake of his head.

 

“Wouldn't want to.” Stiles could not keep from smiling in more earnest at Derek’s words and the fact that he seemed to _mean_ it. He then grabbed the front of Derek’s shirt to pull the other teen into another kiss, deeper that time but something still light and unassuming. If he spent the rest of the evening until his parents got home trading gentle kisses that practically made his toes curl with none other than Derek Hale, well that was his business and his business alone. Until he told Scott, anyway. And, if he spent the rest of his evening all smiles while trying to figure out just where they stood (going to the dance, yes; dating? who knew) only to find he did not care as long as Derek kissed him again, then that truly was no one's business but his own.


	10. Arc I, Ten: A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott wants to be happy for Stiles, really; but...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

It was quiet in Stiles' bedroom and the smile that had been on his face slowly faded as Scott's words sank in. Stiles' brow furrowed a little and he crossed his arms over his stomach, leaning over so his elbows were on his thighs as he sat there on his desk chair. “Excuse me?” he said, his voice soft but ringing with disbelief.

 

Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair while trying to figure out the best way to say what it was that he had to say. He was sitting on the edge of his brother's bed, almost wanting to just say “forget it” and remove the saddened expression on the other teen's face. “I just... I mean, I’m glad that he likes you and all, and that he asked you to the dance; but, I’m not sure being with him is a good idea,” Scott said slowly and carefully, though he was still unsure if his word choice was the correct one. Stiles' brow simply lifted in response and Scott sighed heavily. “I just mean, he's a werewolf.”

 

“Yeah, so are you.” Stiles continued to watch Scott, trying to figure out just what the other boy was thinking because he could not quite figure it out. He had thought that Scott would be happy for him. “So is Jackson, but you're not telling Isaac to back off.”

 

“No one _knows_ that Jackson’s been turned. Everyone knows who Derek Hale is, Stiles.” The slightly elder teen sighed and then groaned when Stiles let out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand over his face. “It's just... you're already enough of a target, why add to it even more?”

 

Stiles got up as Scott spoke, sighing with a shake of his head as he ran his fingers through his untidy hair repeatedly. “That's just it, I’m already a target; so, whether or not I go to the dance with Derek or I actually start dating him will not change the fact that there are people out there who want me dead. That's not enough of a reason for me to not see him, Scotty.” Stiles gave his best friend a smile that did not quite meet his eyes, a half-smile that was more condescending than meaningful.

 

“Stiles, we're preparing for a _war_. You remember that right?” Scott's voice was exasperated, on the edge of pleading as he stood up and went over to rest a hand on his best friend's shoulder. “Derek will be one of the first to go fight if we have to. He's being _trained_ for it, Stiles.”

 

“He's seventeen!”

 

“That doesn't matter in terms of survival.” Scott shook his head, though it was easy to tell that the teen was heart-heavy with the facts he was sharing. It was a truth they all knew, even if they did not acknowledge it. That did not make it any less of a possibility. “Stiles, I _know_ you like him, and if he was anyone else you know that I’d be standing here telling you to go for it; but, you're my brother and I... I just don't want to see you hurt.”

 

Stiles smiled sadly, wetting his lips as he nodded and reached up to rest his hand on top of Scott's. “I know that you don't want me to get hurt; but, Scott... I _really_ like him.” He nodded again, taking a step away from Scott as he crossed his arms over his chest, his stance becoming a little more defiant. He was still unsure just where he and Derek stood, but he was not about to just throw it away, not after having gotten so far. “You're my brother, Scott, and I would do... anything you asked of me. But not this. Please, just let me have this... for as long as I can. Don't ask me to stay away from him, because I won't.”

 

\---

 

Stiles and Scott did not speak on the drive to school that morning. It was tense, and awkward, and Stiles just wished it would go away. He wished he had never told Scott what had happened the evening before. He would have given anything for typical high school drama, not his brother disapproving of a potential relationship because it could literally put him in more danger than he already was. Stiles was not stupid, he knew well that associating himself with the werewolves even more would only make him a greater target. That did not and would not change his mind. Stiles hoped that Derek knew that as well.

 

Scott jumped out of the car almost immediately after Stiles had parked it, making the younger teen sigh softly. He grabbed his backpack out of the back seat before climbing out of the Jeep and making his way into the school. Stiles then set out to look for Derek, though he did not have to look for very long. The other teen was standing near their locker, talking to Lydia and Cora about something that Stiles could not hear from that distance. Stiles smiled a little to himself when he noticed how relaxed the other three teens seemed to be, as if they had heard some kind of good news. Derek turned to look at him as he got closer, a smile forming on his face as he said, “Hey, Stiles.”

 

Stiles smiled softly in response before he leaned in to kiss the other teen in lieu of actually saying anything. He swore he could hear Lydia gasp softly, and he smiled a little into the kiss as Derek dropped his backpack to lift that hand and rest on the back of his neck. Neither one paid any mind to the few cat calls from down the hall (Isaac and Boyd may or may not have been the culprits) or knew that Jackson hid his amused smirk by pressing a kiss to the side of Isaac’s head as he mumbled he was going to go find his friends. “Hi,” Stiles finally said, slightly breathless as the kiss finally broke.

 

Derek laughed softly with a smile, pulling away enough to look at Stiles. “Hi. Not complaining at all, but what was that for?”

 

“Because I wanted to,” answered Stiles with a shrug, ignoring the amused look that Cora and Lydia shared before they walked off hand-in-hand. “Go to the movies with me Friday?”

 

“Yeah?” Derek could not keep from smiling as they stood there, lowering his hand to rest on Stiles' back, holding him close.

 

Stiles laughed with a bright smile of his own and a nod before stealing another, more chaste kiss from the other teen. “Yeah.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Well, aren't you men of many words?” Danny teased as he and Ethan stopped next to the other two teen's, leaning against his boyfriend's side as Ethan’s arm was draped around his shoulders. “You could charm your way into anyone's life like that.”

 

“Oh, bite me, Mahealani,” replied Stiles with a fond eye-roll, shifting so that he stood next to Derek, the other teen's arm still around his waist. Stiles definitely did not mind the closeness.

 

“Brave threat there, Stilinski.” Danny's eyes flashed gold with a wicked grin, though there was a hint of playfulness to his voice. “I do have to thank you, though. You just got me near one-hundred bucks!” Danny grinned while Ethan groaned and Stiles' brow rose in a mix of confusion and curiosity as he shared a look with Derek. “Most of us had a bet going on when you two losers would finally get together after we heard that he wouldn't leave your side in the hospital. I won.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Ethan, rolling his eyes with a long-suffering sigh. “I'm gonna have to listen to him gloat for weeks now. Thanks.”

 

“Oh, leave them alone,” said Isaac with a smile as he walked over to them as well, crossing his arms over his chest. “You couldn't even let them have a moment, could you?”

 

Danny hummed, as if thinking it over as he tapped his chin with one finger. He then grinned wolfishly at Isaac as he said, “Nah.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and shook his head, though he could not get rid of the smile that was on his face, even as the bell announcing the start of classes sounded. Derek let go of Stiles to pick up his backpack, only to switch it to the other hand and take Stiles' hand in his own, linking their fingers together. “C'mon, let's head to class,” Derek stated with a nod in the direction of Harris' classroom. The received a lot of looks and points in their direction, Harris sneered faintly when he saw them holding hands, and there were whispers that Derek tried his best to ignore. However, for the most part, people were rather quiet about the new development. Stiles just hoped that Scott would continue to be wrong.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Two for _Now You See Me_ ,” Derek said from behind Stiles, placing the cash for it on the teller's ledge.

 

Stiles smiled over his shoulder at Derek as he said, “You didn't have to pay.”

 

“Wanted to.” Derek grinned and took the tickets before ushering Stiles into the building and away from the cool wind that brought with it the threat of rain. “D'you want popcorn or anything?”

 

 

“Mmm... just a soda for me; but, I’m buying. What d'you want?” replied Stiles with a smile, taking Derek’s hand in his own to lead the other teen over to the concession stand.

 

They each just got a soda before going to the screen the movie they had chosen was going to be playing in, pointedly ignoring any looks that came their way. Despite the odd looks they had gotten all evening, Stiles was honestly having a great time. He always enjoyed being around Derek, though, so he guessed that was not too much of a stretch. The theater was already dark as they picked a couple of seats near the middle. Stiles was glad that they had chosen a movie that had been out for a while for that very reason. Plus, he had not seen it yet and he really wanted to. He smiled a little to himself when Derek draped an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned against the elder teen more, practically resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.

 

They did not talk during the movie, save a few comments here and there about what was going on, and actually paid attention to the screen; but, Derek spent the entire time idly brushing his fingers against Stiles' arm. Stiles had never felt so... at ease with someone before. The only other date he had been on had been a travesty that ended with him dumping his soda on her lap. It had been terrible. Throughout that date, though, Stiles had felt like he was trying too hard to impress her. With Derek, he did not feel that. Sure, he'd spent a good while being nervous that he was going to embarrass himself, but that was something different entirely.

 

When the movie ended and the lights came up, Stiles stood up with a smile and turned to face Derek. The smile faltered, however, when he noticed that the other teen was looking fairly exhausted, something he had never seen of him before. “Derek, are you okay?” Stiles asked, reaching out to brush his fingers against the other boy's face, which seemed to be paler than usual, even in the lighting of the theater.

 

“Yeah, 'm fine,” Derek replied with a nod, though his brow was furrowed slightly. “C'mon, let's get out of here.”

 

Stiles nodded before the two of them started to leave the theater, Derek’s arm wrapping around Stiles' shoulders again. As Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist, the two of them stumbled slightly. “Derek, are you sure you're okay? You don't _look_ okay,” Stiles said quietly, though he could not hide the concern in his voice. Derek nodded, but didn't say anything for a long few moments. Once they got outside, he started to say something about needing to call someone, but he never got the words out before rushing over to the near-by trash can in order to get sick.

 

Werewolves couldn't get sick. Stiles _knew_ that. Yet, there he was watching Derek do just that. Something was very much not right and out of instinct, he quickly pulled out his phone and called Melissa’s number while going over and placing a hand on Derek’s back, absentmindedly rubbing it. He could feel the other teen shaking beneath his fingers and it made his throat tighten to the point that he almost could not respond when Melissa picked up the phone. “Mom,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice which made the nurse freeze mid-reach for her purse on the counter at their house, “something's wrong with Derek and I don't know what to do.”

 

“Stiles, where are you? The theater, still?” Melissa questioned as she snatched up her purse and rushed out the front door. She was not sure what was going on just yet, but if the sound of worry in Stiles' voice was anything to go by, she would just figure it out when she got there. “Stiles?”

 

“Shit, sorry. Yeah, we're there,” the teen replied, his voice still shaking as he helped Derek over to sit on the bench after catching the teen from nearly falling over. “I think he's sick, but...”

 

“I'm calling Talia, and I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Just keep making sure he's okay until I get there, okay?” Melissa sighed heavily when she heard a barely-there response from Stiles before the line went dead. She paid no attention to the speed limit and was at the theater in less time than she had anticipated. “Boys!” She rushed over to the bench where the two teens sat; Derek was slumped over with his head on Stiles' shoulder, visibly shaking as Melissa drew near. “What's going on?”

 

“I-I don't know,” answered Stiles, his voice sounding tight as he shook his head. “He just... when we got ready to leave he looked really sick, a-and then he got sick. Mom, it was _black_.”

 

“Stiles, help me get him into the car.” Melissa’s voice was kind but urgent, not wanting to get Stiles any more worked up than he already was. She knew well it did not take much to tip him into a panic attack of late, and it was not the time or place for something like that.

 

Together, they got the other teen to the car, and Melissa called Talia to say she was taking Derek to the hospital but that she should meet them there. Talia wasted no time in agreeing before ending the call. Stiles was rather oblivious to all that, though. He was sitting in the back seat next to Derek, who felt like he was running a very high fever and he kept coughing randomly. Thankfully, he did not get sick again in the car. Stiles idly played with Derek’s hair near the back of his neck, bouncing his own knee the entire drive to the hospital, which seemed much too long, in Stiles' opinion.

 

Once they got there, they were met by Peter Hale, who immediately opened the door on the side that Derek was on and helped his nephew out of the car. “What are you doing here?” Stiles asked him, climbing out of the other side while glancing around for any sign of Talia.

 

“My sister's on her way,” answered Peter, not bothering to hide the roll of his eyes. “She went to get the dear doctor Deaton. Let's get him inside.”

 

Stiles did not argue with that as he rushed inside with the two of them, Melissa trailing behind. She moved in front of them once they got to one of the nurses' stations and led them to a room they could use. Melissa then did what she could to try to figure out what was wrong with Derek while not having much of any knowledge on werewolves. “Wolfsbane?” Peter suggested, though whatever was going on with his nephew was not a reaction to any wolfsbane he had ever seen despite similarities.

 

Peter instinctively grabbed Stiles' arm and pulled the teen backward when Stiles rushed forward as Derek struggled to catch a breath, gripping tightly onto either side of the bed. He sat up only a little with a flash of his eyes just as Talia and Alan Deaton came into the room. “Maybe he should wait in the hall,” Deaton suggested with a nod toward Stiles. The teen attempted to argue, but Melissa frowned faintly and ushered him outside anyway, telling them to call if she could help any.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Stiles questioned, wringing his hands in front of him while leaning against the wall across the hallway from the door to the room Derek was in so that he could watch it for any signs of movement.

 

“Of course, sweetheart,” replied Melissa, though they both heard the unsureness in her voice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles' eyes were closed, his eyes resting back against the wall behind the chair he had finally sat on there in the hall, arms crossed over his chest. Talia stopped in the doorway of the room on her way out into the hallway before smiling softly as she entered the hall with Peter staying there in the room to have someone in the family there overnight while she went to go deliver word to the rest of the family. Stiles lifted his head and sat up a little more, opening his mouth to ask how Derek was only to have the question cut off by Talia's answer of, “Derek will be fine. He just needs some rest.” She nodded a little, and Stiles mirrored the action with a heavy sigh. “It was some unknown mix of wolfsbane and mountain ash. We're lucky Deaton figured it out. He'll be weak for a while, but you can go and see him if you want.”

 

They had already informed Melissa, who had taken the information to the nurses' station so that Derek could be officially put under the hospital's watch, at least for the night. Peter would stay there as well, however. But, when Stiles went into the room after Talia left, Peter made his way to the cafeteria to get himself some coffee. “So... poisoned, huh?” questioned Stiles with a slight laugh as he sat down on the edge of Derek’s bed, earning himself a tired but amused smirk from Derek.

 

“Only my luck,” he replied, voice tired and scratchy. “Sorry.”

 

“No, it's... don't apologize. Gonna be kinda hard to top this date, though.” Stiles smirked with a chuckle at his own joke, which made Derek shake his head amusedly with a soft sigh. “How're you feeling?”

 

“I'm fine, Stiles,” Derek stated, smiling a little as he nodded. “Stop worrying.”

 

“Sorry. It's just... dude, 've never seen anything like that before. You were _really_ pale, and I --” Stiles cut off with a sharp intake of breath when Derek suddenly leaned up and silenced him with a kiss. He lifted a hand to rest on the other teen's shoulder, gently squeezing it when Derek pulled away. “I'm just glad you're okay.”


	11. Arc I, Eleven: The Dance Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small aftermath of the date, and the dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Stiles was still a nervous wreck come Monday morning. They still had not figured out exactly what had happened to Derek or _how_. All they knew was that somehow, he had gotten a terrible mix of wolfsbane and mountain ash in his system. He went to the school early that morning, figuring that Derek, if he was well enough to come back to school, would be there for basketball practice. Sure enough, Stiles found him in the gym with the rest of the team. The other teen was all smiles and laughter as he joked around with his friends, until they looked away and Stiles watched as the smile fell away. Derek just looked _tired_ in a way he probably should not have. He was still paler than normal, but the others did not seem to notice. Especially since once they looked back to Derek, the other teen was smiling and joking once again.

 

Stiles absentmindedly grabbed one of the stray basketballs and spun it between his hands, pressing two fingers of each one against the ball. He continued watching until it seemed that practice was over and Derek came over to where he was standing with one of those smiles that Derek had been giving to all of his friends. “Are you okay?” Stiles questioned, tapping his fingers against the basketball he still held.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” replied Derek with another smile and a nod, laughing a little though the sound seemed forced to both of their ears.

 

The slightly younger teen's brow rose a little, as if questioning Derek’s response before he suddenly threw the basketball forward toward the middle of Derek’s chest. The other teen barely caught the ball before it made contact, and he stumbled back a step and a half when usually, Derek would have caught that without any problems. He would have made some big _show_ out of it with that cheeky little smirk that Stiles  <s>hated</s> lo- really enjoyed. Stiles clenched his teeth and threw a punch at Derek’s arm, something that made the other teen flinch. “You are _not_ fine, Derek,” Stiles replied with a frown. He may have been better than he'd been at the hospital, _thankfully_ , but he was not _fine_. “Don't lie to me.”

  
“Stiles...”

 

“No.” Stiles hit Derek’s shoulder in a manner that showed his obvious irritation without hurting either one of them, shaking his head a little. “You can fake it to your friends all you want; but, don't lie to _me_.”

 

Derek idly wet his lips and nodded a little before reaching out to tug Stiles over to him by the string of the other teen's hoodie. “Yeah, alright,” Derek stated, though they both knew that it would not be the last time that Derek attempted to keep something from Stiles. Derek did not want to lie to Stiles, but he had not wanted the other teen to worry about him, not with everything else that was going on. He would be fine soon enough. It would just take more time than they had anticipated. “Don't be mad.”

 

The slightly younger teen let out a heavy breath, and he smiled a little before shaking his head. “I'm not. Just worried about you.” Stiles smiled a little once again before he gently kissed Derek, wrapping his arms around the other boy as Derek’s hands rested on his waist.

 

“Well, aren't you two absolutely _adorable_ ,” Peter Hale drawled as he came striding across the gym. Stiles did not miss the way that Derek’s grip shifted on his hips and drew him even closer. Peter smirked at the action, brow raising a little as he crossed his arms over his chest. “My, someone's edgy.”

  
“What do you _want_ , Peter?” Derek asked, voice sighed as he watched the other werewolf warily.

 

“Can't I come say 'hello' to my favorite nephew?” Peter smirked again as Derek’s eyes narrowed a little. “Or maybe big sis wanted me to keep an eye out.”

 

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. That sounded more accurate. Of course Laura would be worried that something else would happen. “I don't need a babysitter,” the teen all but growled at Peter, who simply lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

 

Stiles looked between the two of them for a moment, not exactly sure what to do, though he was seriously considering just dragging Derek out of the gym. However, Stiles looked to Peter once again as he finally said, “Isn't the staff going to notice a creepy pedophile wandering along the corridors?”

 

Peter let out a startled bark of a laugh, his grin growing slightly predatory in a way that made Derek shift Stiles behind him. Well, he tried to, anyway, but Stiles shrugged him off. He could take care of himself, thank you. “You should watch that mouth of yours before you really get into trouble, Stilinski,” Peter stated, his voice more flat than holding any veil of a threat. Stiles did not trust him, however.

 

The teen simply shrugged his shoulders in response. He had been told that several times throughout his life. He highly doubted that it would ever change. Derek seemed torn between facepalming, rolling his eyes, and sighing with a shake of his head. Eventually, he settled on the later as he let go of Stiles to take the other teen's hand in his own. “C'mon,” Derek said, pointedly ignoring Peter once again. He did not have time for whatever his uncle was up to. “Let's head to class.”

 

Stiles nodded and followed Derek out of the gym, glancing back to Peter once more with a slight shudder at the look in the man's eyes. There was just something about him that did not seem _right_ , but if Derek’s reactions to the man were anything to go by, Stiles was not alone in those thoughts. It was just what they needed, Stiles thought with a heavy sigh, a psycho werewolf on top of everything else. “Cora's insisting we take a group photo at the dance,” Derek stated as they got near their locker. Stiles' brow furrowed a little in confusion as he processed the words before he realized that the dance was that weekend. He had almost forgotten with everything else going on.

 

He snorted a little with a shake of his head as he said, “A group photo made up of mostly werewolves, because that won't turn out to be one giant eye flash.”

 

“Try telling that to _her_.” Derek shook his head as well, smirking in amusement as he leaned against the locker next to the one he shared with Stiles, watching as the other teen gathered his things for their first class.

 

“You're staring again.” Stiles tried to hide a faint smile as he shoved his textbook for history into the locker since he had taken it home the night before and would not need it until later.

 

The elder teen chuckled a little, tilting his head to one side so that it rested against the lockers. “Problem with that?”

 

Stiles closed his backpack after getting everything he would need for chemistry before moving aside so that Derek could grab what he needed. “It's a little creepy.”

 

“You don't mind,” replied Derek with a cheeky grin as he grabbed his own textbook, notebook, and pen for class.

 

“No...” Stiles laughed softly at his own response, smiling a little as Derek leaned in to chastely kiss him while closing the locker door. It was odd, how easy things with Derek was. He was not used to anyone looking at him as intently as Derek did, often without even realizing, and yet it never made him uncomfortable. He guessed that it was nice, in an odd way, to know that someone _wanted_ to look at him. He was so used to being that kid that everyone knew and liked in a purely platonic sense, well, that was until he started dating a werewolf; but, Stiles did not mind in the slightest. The dirty looks he received as they walked down the hall hand-in-hand were more than worth it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Derek's looking better,” Isaac commented idly as he swung himself back and forth on Stiles' desk chair in his friend's bedroom Friday evening before the dance. He, Scott, and Stiles were getting ready there while Jackson, Allison, and Derek were at the Hale House.

 

Scott nodded in agreement as he ran his hands through his hair with gel on his fingers to get his hair styled right and he said, “Yeah. No longer looks like a strong gust of wind will knock him over.”

 

They'd all spent most of the week worrying about Derek in their own ways. Isaac was quiet about it, randomly giving Derek milk or juice when they were studying together at the Hales'. Scott had teased Derek a lot, but there was always that sense of concern beneath it. Derek glared at him more often than not. Stiles did nod do or say anything different than normal; but, that was because he was too busy telling himself that things were going to be fine, that Derek would be okay. It would just take time, and it had. About a week later and he was finally back to his normal self. “Yeah,” Stiles agreed, his voice mostly breath as he smiled and nodded as well from his spot on the floor. He was probably wrinkling the pants that Lydia had bought him and forced him to wear that evening; but, he did not care too much. Isaac seemed slightly worried that Lydia would be mad, though, as he pointed it out several times.

 

By that point in the evening, Isaac was just fishing for conversation about anything besides the dance. He was extremely nervous; he had never gone to a school dance before, and he was scared he was going to make a fool of himself, especially if Jackson actually wanted to dance. Scott was a bundle of smiling energy as usual, and Stiles, well, none of them could really pin-point Stiles' mood that evening. He seemed distracted by something, and whatever it was was fairly big as he missed all the shared looks between his best friends until Scott finally asked, “Dude, are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” replied Stiles quickly, almost too quickly, and he winced a little as his own voice cracked slightly. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair repeatedly and cleared his throat. “I dunno. I’ve just got this... bad feeling I guess. I can't explain it. It's probably just me being paranoid, though.” They'd gone nearly a week without any further incidents. Nobody else had gotten hurt or threatened, the government was still on a non-issue about the werewolf community in California though several other states were signing the same law that Georgia had.

 

“Hyper-vigilance,” Isaac stated quietly, nodding a little as he smiled faintly at his best friend, who returned the gesture in kind.

 

“It's just a school dance,” insisted Scott with one of his brilliant smiles that seemed to make everyone feel better. Stiles could not keep from honestly smiling at his brother, though a part of him still felt worried. If Scott was going to remain optimistic, than so was he. “What's the worst that can happen?”

 

Stiles and Isaac tensed at Scott's unwittingly foreboding sentence. In Stiles' experience, that phrase never preceded anything good. He was about to comment on it when there was a sudden knock on the frame of his bedroom door, which caused the tension to die as both Isaac and Scott jumped with small shouts as they all looked to see Melissa standing in the doorway with an amused expression on her face. “Your dates are here,” she said with a soft chuckle and a shake of her head, looking between the three boys with a bright smile on her face. “Your last winter formal, huh? Never thought we'd get here. You've all grown up so much.”

 

“Mom,” Scott groaned, even though he had a smile on his face as he went over to give her a one-armed hug. “It's not the time for this. We've still got prom next term. Do it then.”

 

“Oh, alright.” Melissa laughed at herself, rolling her eyes at Scott as she ruffled his hair despite his protests.

 

The four of them then headed downstairs, Melissa gently squeezing Isaac’s shoulder as they went, making the curly-haired teen smile softly at her. “Don't stay out too late,” John Stilinski stated as he crossed his arms over his chest while the six teens conjugated in the main hallway. Of course, he could not speak for Isaac and Jackson, but at least two of the teens were under his guardianship.

 

“Yes, Dad,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes, though there was a smile on his face that he could not stop as he stood close to Derek, all of them ready to get out of there before awkward situations or threats of photos.

 

The car ride to the dance was rather quiet, with four people crammed into the backseat (Allison, Scott, Jackson, and Isaac), while Derek drove and Stiles sat up front. They listened to the radio, but nobody really said anything. Scott spent the ride to the school with his arms around Allison’s waist and his face buried into the side of her neck, making her smile and run a hand through his hair as he nuzzled against her.

 

Once they finally got to the school, the three couples went into the building. Scott immediately led Allison to the dance floor with matching bright smiles. Jackson and Isaac walked hand-in-hand to where Jackson’s friends were so that they could do the all-but-mandatory check in and Jackson could keep up appearances before he led Isaac out to dance as well, the curly-haired teen smiling shyly. Stiles and Derek had already agreed to sit out any of the fast songs, and they went to find a table that all of them could use off to one side. “Are you okay?” Derek asked Stiles as they took their seats, brow furrowed slightly as he studied the younger teen.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” replied Stiles, shaking his head slight as if shaking off a thought before smiling over at Derek. “Sorry, just kinda... I dunno. Spacey. I’m good, though.”

 

Derek nodded a little, though his expression did not change for another few moments before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek. “You look amazing, by the way,” Derek stated as he pulled away with that charming grin that he was known for. “Figured you'd rather not want me to say something like that in front of your dad.”

 

“Mmm... I wouldn't have minded, but I’m sure _he's_ glad.” Stiles laughed softly with a smile, the expression slowly turning into a smirk as he reached over and tugged on the collar of the blazer that Derek wore that evening. “C'mon, I know we said no fast songs, but I’m changing the agreement. Dance with me.”

 

“I'm a terrible dancer.” Derek groaned a little, but he let Stiles lead him out to the dance floor where all of their friends were.

 

“I don't care.” Stiles shook his head with a bright grin as they joined the others. Isaac smiled when he saw Stiles actually near-by, looking a lot more relaxed than he had been at the house. Stiles was glad. He deserved a night of fun. They all did.

 

It was nice, Stiles decided after a few minutes. There was no division of the students that night. They were all just a mixed up mass on the floor while the teachers stood off to one side, watching over them. It was rather surprising how nice people were being to each other. He guessed Lydia had been right earlier, when she said that school dances tended to unify the place. At least for the time being, they did not seem to have to worry about people being jerks because of differences.

 

Stiles laughed with another smile as the music's tempo slowed down dramatically and Derek spun him around so they were face-to-face again, pulling him closer. “Hi,” Stiles said as he lifted his arms to wrap them around the other teen's neck.

 

He managed not to wince when Derek stepped on his feet, though the other teen did. “Sorry,” stated the basketball player with a sheepish smile, ducking his head a little.

 

“Don't. S'fine.” Stiles nodded a little, pressing a kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth before leaning in closer to the other teen, holding onto him tightly as they danced cheek-to-cheek. The brown-eyed teen smiled softly as he felt Derek’s arms tighten around his waist, and he looked over the other boy's shoulder to their friends as they continued to dance.

 

Allison was beaming as she toyed with Scott's hair while they danced. Jackson and Isaac had moved off to one side and were talking quietly as Jackson held the curly-haired teen close to him, a smile on his face unlike one Stiles had ever seen before. They definitely were better for each other than Stiles had ever thought possible. Cora and Lydia were lost in their own little world, Lydia actually allowing Cora to lead as they danced. Danny and Ethan were done fighting again and both seemed to be all smiles as they swayed back and forth, not really moving otherwise. It was everything that a high school experience should have been. No worrying about hunters, or how they were going to survive. There was no stress, no thoughts of war. If only they could just _stay_ in that moment.

 

Stiles' brow furrowed a little in silent question as Derek leaned away from him without removing the arms around his waist. The elder teen then leaned in to kiss Stiles instead of actually saying anything as they stilled in place and the younger boy shifted his hand to rest on the back of Derek’s neck. “Stop thinking about it,” Derek murmured as he broke the kiss, brushing his nose against Stiles'.

 

The younger teen let out a heavy breath, keeping his eyes closed as Derek pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Thinking about what?” replied Stiles, his voice light as if he had not just been dwelling on the bad things in their lives.

 

“You know what.” Derek smiled a little as he leaned away enough to look at the other boy. “Forget about all that, even if just for tonight.”

 

“Yeah, okay. I can do that.” The younger teen smiled at Derek before stealing another kiss as the song changed to one with a faster beat. He then laughed as Scott grabbed his arm to drag him over to where everyone else was dancing in a group because apparently Lydia demanded he dance with her next. Once in front of her, Stiles bowed dramatically and held a hand out, causing the beta to roll her eyes, though the faint upturn of her lips was fond as she took his hand. Derek smiled to himself as he watched them, stepping aside to go sit back down at the table where Isaac and Jackson were.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I'll be right back,” Stiles told Derek with a smile, chastely kissing the other teen before he left the gym to head to the bathroom down the hall and up the stairs as the bathrooms on the first floor were in repair.

 

The halls were dark and quiet, save the sound of the music from the gym that grew fainter the farther Stiles walked. He frowned a little, glancing over his shoulder once he got up the stairs to the next floor. He stopped by his locker, grabbing the pain medication stashed in the back corner before continuing to the bathroom. His knee was bothering him a bit, so he only wanted to take one. He wanted to be able to enjoy the rest of the night and not be bothered by his knee.

 

Stiles took the pill, cupping his hand under the sink faucet to get some water to chase it with, before turning off the sink again and drying his hands. The teen let out a heavy breath, taking a moment to close his eyes as he tilted his head forward until his forehead rested against the mirror above the sink. “Calm down,” he said to himself, shaking his head a little before lifting it once again. “Everything's fine. Relax. You're fine.”

 

The teen took another deep breath, not sure where the sudden feeling of dread was coming from. It had been bothering him all night, but it seemed to grow worse as he stepped out into the hallway. Stiles glanced down either direction before starting toward the stairs again. The teen stopped a few feet away from the bathroom when he heard a loud, sudden clanging noise from the darker end of the hallway, and he slowly turned to look in that direction. “Scott?” he asked slowly, his voice unsure even to his own ears. Why would Scott be down in the hallway?

 

Stiles waited a moment before he took a deep breath and a step forward only to freeze once again at the sound of metal scraping behind him. Stiles closed his eyes and took a moment, telling himself that he was probably imagining things, before turning to look again. However, that time, he did see someone in the hall, walking toward him while idly dragging what looked to be a rather large blade along the lockers. “M-Matt? What're you doing?” Stiles asked, taking a stumbling step backward.

 

The other teen simply raised a brow in response, pulling the knife in his hand away from the lockers, and holy hell, was that a crossbow strapped to his back? “So, you're the little human in the pack of wolves,” Matt stated, his voice holding an edge to it that Stiles had never heard before, though reminded him vaguely of Victoria Argent. “We have some.. questions for you.”

 

“We?” Stiles laughed nervously, ruffling his hair as he took another step backward, taking him farther away from Matt and the stairs all at the same time. Stiles glanced toward him, wondering if he could manage to get himself down the stairs without breaking something.

 

“Oh, didn't you hear? After some werewolf ripped out my parents' throats, the Argents took me in.” Matt flashed a grin that was purely terrifying, something that Stiles had never thought the other teen could manage. “Break the human, break the pack.” Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but clamped his mouth shut when he saw the other teen pulling the crossbow off of his back where it had been strapped. “Do yourself a favor, Stilinski, and make this a challenge. _Run_.”

 

“Shit.” Stiles barely breathed the word before he turned around and took off running down the hallway, slamming into a row of lockers as he took a corner to sharp and slid. He shouted for Scott or Derek, though he knew the music in the gym would be too loud for them to hear over. Stiles could only hope that someone else might hear before he quietened and ducked into one of the dark classrooms to hide from Matt, who he could still hear coming down the hallway.


	12. Arc I, Twelve: The Dance Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Please, check the updated tags before going any farther. There is a lot of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Stiles placed his hand over his mouth in attempt to quieten his breathing as he ducked down underneath one of the science tables in the classroom he had chosen. It was dark in the room, and the underneath was not very visible. The teen tensed when the front door to the room opened slowly, his eyes darting to the second door a mere ten feet away from him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment, listening as Matt crossed the room toward the windows in front of the first door. Panicking right then would not be a good idea, but Stiles could not exactly stop the way that his chest tightened painfully.

 

Opening his eyes again, Stiles glanced over to where Matt was slowly starting along the back row of desks before he looked toward the second door. Without giving himself a second to think on it any longer, he surged forward out from under his hiding place and yanked the door open before speeding out of there as fast as he could with the slight limp the pain in his leg was causing. Stiles heard movement behind him, but he did not turn and look. He would rather not see as he tried to make his way toward the stairs, but then there was a blinding pain originating somewhere in his shoulder as he toppled forward. Stiles attempted to catch himself, but he was pretty sure that only ended up messing up his wrist as he landed.

 

Somewhere behind him, Stiles heard Matt click his tongue against his teeth, and the other teen said, “Well, that was all too easy. Now's the time for the real fun. I’m going to ask you some questions, Stilinski, and you better answer them correctly...”

 

\---

 

“Stiles has been gone a long time,” Isaac said quietly, his blue eyes focused on the gym doors that his best friend _still_ had not come through. It made him nervous, fidgety in his seat, as he thought back to what Stiles had talked about earlier. Maybe something was wrong.

 

Lydia was the first of the group to stand up, which stopped Derek mid-action, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “I'll go make sure he didn't fall into the sink,” Lydia stated with a decisive nod. “Besides, I need to go touch up my make-up. Derek seemed ready to argue that he would go look for Stiles, but the red-head shot him a look before she smoothed out the front of her dress and started to walk toward the double doors of the gym.

 

As she went into the hallway and the doors shut behind her, the loud music became muffled, and she could focus on more of the school. It was quiet, and the air felt too still, it set the hair on the back of Lydia's neck on end. Something was very wrong. “Stiles,” Lydia called as she started to walk toward the stairs that Stiles had gone up earlier. She listened for anything; footsteps, Stiles shouting back at her, a door closing... _anything_. However, the more steps she took without any sort of response, the more worried that Lydia became. Something was definitely very wrong. “Stiles?”

 

Meanwhile, up the stairs and on the opposite side of the school from the gym, Stiles came to with a very harsh slap to his face. He jerked up as upright as he could get with his hands tied behind his back, gasping softly as his eyes snapped open. His side hurt, as though someone had kicked him repeatedly, or let him get hit on corners, or both; and, he was pretty sure that his face was going to be bruised. “Wha...?” he asked slowly, trying to remember just what had happened.

 

Before he could really say anything else, Matt was there, grabbing the shaft of the arrow that was sticking out of his shoulder (holy god, he was going to be sick), tugging up harshly on it to make Stiles cry out in pain as he asked, “Where _are_ the hideouts, Stilinski?”

 

Stiles was shaking in the chair, twisting his wrists in attempt to get them out of the ropes binding his hands together behind his back. It only caused his shoulder to _burn_ and the ropes to cut into his skin more. “I-I don't know what you're talking about,” Stiles stammered out in response, though he was telling the truth. He honestly did not know what Matt was asking him.

 

“Let's try again.” Matt grabbed the arrow's shaft and twisted on it as he pulled it forward, grinning when Stiles cried out once again despite attempting to not by clenching his teeth together. “Where are the werewolves' fallback points? The safe-havens? Where are they planning to _run_ to?”

 

“We're not running _anywhere_ ,” Stiles replied with a gasp, clenching his teeth once again. He did not want Matt to see how much he was hurting, as much as he could manage to hide it.

 

At that, Matt laughed so hard he nearly doubled over in laughter before backhanding Stiles across the face once again. Then, Matt took Stiles' face in his hand and tilted the teen's chin upward, grip nearing bruising when Stiles tried to jerk away. “You're nothing but a silly little boy with a pack of wolves around you. Do you really _think_ that they will save you when they've their own hides to worry about? You will die, Stilinski, if you continue to run with them.”

 

“I'd rather die with them, than live like you.” Stiles managed to sneer, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was to go curl in a ball somewhere. His shoulder, at least, did not hurt him for the time being. He was pretty sure, with the way it was difficult to move his right arm, that it was broken from when he'd attempted to catch himself in the hallway earlier. Stiles was not sure what all kinds of training Matt had received on _questioning_ people, but there was a low pit in his stomach.

 

Stiles' eyes darted toward the door, but Matt just laughed with a smirk as he leaned back against one of the desks several feet away. He was messing with a lighter and... _something_ in his hand that Stiles could not quite make out. “Well, if you don't give me the answers I want, that may just happen tonight. No one's coming for you, Stiles; and, once Mom's through... well, they won't be able to recognize you.”

 

The teen tied to the chair stilled as he looked over at Matt, brow furrowing a little as he tried to focus on taking deep, shaky breaths. Surely he did not mean Victoria. If the smirk on Matt's face was anything to go by, the other teen was accurately assuming what Stiles' thoughts were. “Oh, yes, Victoria will want to see you tonight, one way or the other. The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you'll be out of here,” Matt stated, placing whatever was in his hand into the flame of his lighter.

 

“Bite me,” Stiles ground out, shifting around until the pain in his arm made him whimper faintly in distress. Matt, then, pushed himself away from the desk and walked over to where Stiles was, ignoring the brown-eyed teen's statement. Stiles questioned Matt's actions as the other teen ripped the hole in his shirt even more to the point that his shoulder was exposed.

 

At that moment, Matt took the coin he had been holding, one with the Argent family crest on it, and he pressed the burning hot metal against Stiles' skin with a smirk. The back side was still cool to the touch as Matt kept it pressed there, knowing the opposite side was searing Stiles' skin as the teen fidgeted and attempted to pull away. “Magic,” Matt stated with a wicked smile. “Victoria learned the trick from some witches that came in from Europe. You see, metal shouldn't heat like that, and yet...” Matt then pulled the coin away from Stiles' skin, leaving a bright red mark with the Argent crest on it. “We've some plans for you, Stilinski; and, none of your little friends are going to find you. They've not even come _looking_ for you.”

 

Stiles groaned as he dropped his head backward, trying his best not to pass out, though he was sure the room was spinning around him. Stiles took some deep, shaky breaths, somehow managing a bitter laugh at the thought. It was a wonder he was still conscious between the arrow in his shoulder and now a fucking _brand_ (that was going to piss Stiles off for friggen' ever, okay?), and Stiles... Well, Stiles had no real idea what to think about what was going on. Was Matt just going to stand there and torture him? Was Victoria coming to the school? Or was Matt simply wasting time until someone else came to get them to go to the Argents'? Whatever it was, Stiles just felt sick, and dizzy, and shaky, and numb, and in pain all at the same time. “What are you waiting for, Matt? You're stalling. Trying to play big man, but you're just--”

 

He cut off again when Matt backhanded him once more, nearly making him bite his tongue. Or, wait... maybe the blood he tasted meant that he had bit his tongue, or the inside of his cheek. Whatever it was, Stiles did not really register it quite yet. He was too distracted by the stronger pain coming from his shoulder. There really want any hopes he may have had at playing lacrosse that year. “Heh, yeah, hit a guy when he can't fight back, or shove him when his back is turned, right?” Stiles questioned, throwing in an accusation about his “accident” from earlier in the year. His voice was a little more unsteady, scratchy as he tried to keep calm. However, if the way his breaths were coming in short pants were anything to go by, that was not really working for him.

 

“Shut up, Stilinski,” Matt said with a slight edge to his voice that sent a chill down Stiles' spine, grabbing a knife out of the holster on his belt. “Before I sever your vocal chords.”

 

“You would've by now if you were man enough to do so.” Stiles spat slightly at Matt, which made the other teen surge toward him, but Matt froze when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The teen sneered at Stiles, but checked the message. Whatever it said could not have been good, Stiles decided, as Matt smirked and pocketed the phone. “Our ride's here.”

 

Stiles did not have much time to react as Matt cut the ropes binding him to the chair, leaving the ones around his wrists in place so that he could not easily run off. Of course, when Stiles stood, his knee gave out and he fell forward, which was just his luck. Running had obviously been a terrible idea. Stiles was shaky as Matt simply tugged him up by the back of his neck and started to lead him toward the door. “Come on... Jesus,” Matt said exasperatedly with a roll of his eyes. There was so much more that Matt wished to do, and he would have the chance to do so (after all, Victoria was training him on being persuasive and a very good questioner); but, it would have to wait until they got Stiles out of there, which the unmarked black van outside was waiting to do.

 

Matt got no farther than the hallway with Stiles, who was stumbling with each step, wincing as his knee felt as though it were going to fall off with each moment, when they both froze at the sound of a terrible snarl from the end of the hallway. Both teens looked up to see a flash of amber eyes in the shadows of the far end, followed by the clicking of heels as Lydia took a few steps forward into a lighter portion of the hallway. Stiles was sure he had never been so glad to see the red-head in his _life_. “You have until the count of three to let him go,” Lydia stated, tilting her head slightly in what honestly looked like one of the most innocently threatening gestures paired with a smile that Stiles had ever seen. “One.”

 

Lydia's eyes flashed gold again and Matt tossed Stiles aside, not paying the other teen any mind as he practically collided with the lockers. Lydia tensed and growled at the other teen, who simply drew his knife once again, the blade glinting in the dull light of the hall as Lydia crouched a little. In a flurry of movement, Lydia was next to Matt, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him against the lockers, which gave and dented around Matt's form. Lydia ripped the knife from his hand, even as he attempted to stab her in the side with it despite his lack of ability to focus on anything, and she tossed it toward the far end of the hall before tugging on the front of Matt's shirt and throwing him toward the ground. A smirk tugged up on her lips at the sickening _crack_ that filled the hallway with the sound of his nose breaking. “If you _ever_ touch him again,” Lydia said softly as she knelt down and patted the top of Matt's head. The red-headed teen leaned even further down so that her lips were near Matt's ear as he stayed still in fear, knowing that the werewolf was much too close as he struggled to keep conscious. “I'll do more than break your nose.” With that, Lydia quickly made sure that Matt lost the hold on consciousness that he had been struggling for with a quick application of force to the correct pressure points on his body. She would let Talia come and decide what to do with Matt.

 

“Stiles,” Lydia said after a moment, reminding herself of the other teen before she rushed to his side and helped him sit up as best she could. “Stay awake, you idiot; and, don't bleed on my dress.” Stiles could not help his laughter as he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

 

\---

 

Throughout the rest of the night, Stiles slipped in and out of consciousness. He caught snippets of conversation. There was a cover-up from both the school and the police department. Nobody outside the principal, the department, and the pack would know about what happened at the school. Matt was... somewhere, but Talia insisted he would no longer harm anyone. Stiles heard something about probably just pulling him from the school no matter what he said. The teen wanted to protest, but sleep overcame him again, instead.

 

His everything hurt, but every now and then, the feeling would diminish to an odd warmth that spread through his limbs. Somehow, even without really being awake or looking, he knew it was Derek. Stiles tried to say his name every time; but, instead, he just fell into the darkness of sleep once again.

 

When Stiles finally completely woke up, it was light outside the window of the room he was in. The room was very familiar to him, and it took a long while for it to sink in that he was in Derek’s room on Derek’s bed. Stiles was not exactly sure how he had gotten there, but he was. “Deaton was here?” Stiles asked tiredly as Talia Hale came walking into the room with a cup of warm tea and a soft smile.

 

Talia nodded a little as she adjusted the pillows behind Stiles to help him sit up before handing him the tea. “Yes, Deaton patched you up,” she explained as she sat down near the edge of the bed. “We were worried about you for a while. Your fever would not go down, and you were restless, muttering in your sleep.”

 

“Was I? I don't remember.” Stiles shook his head a little, brow furrowing as he took a sip of the tea. The warm drink immediately made him feel a hundred times better, and it made the ache in his shoulder lessen slightly. There must have been some kind of pain aid in it; Stiles did not ask. He could only remember parts of what had happened, and guessed that he blocked the rest of it out. “Lydia...?”

 

“Is with the others outside. I made them all go out and get some air. Everyone's been taking turns watching over you.” Talia smiled softly as she placed a gentle hand on the teen's forearm. “Your father will return as soon as he can. There's paperwork he _had_ to do at the office.”

 

Stiles understood, even as much as he wished his father was right there with him. He knew that the man would return as soon as possible. “Would you like to see everyone? Or maybe just a couple people at first? I’m sure everyone might be a bit too much.”

 

“Yes, please. Could I... see Derek?” Stiles requested, a little more shyly than he would have liked, but he smiled a little when the alpha before him smiled in return.

 

“Of course.” Talia smiled softly once again before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Stiles' forehead. “We're all glad that you are okay, Stiles.”

 

With that, Talia got up and made her way downstairs before heading to the gardens, where everyone was sitting around. Jackson had his arm around Isaac’s shoulders as the curly-haired teen leaned against him. Ethan and Aiden were standing with Danny off to one side, talking quietly amongst themselves. Cora was idly running her fingers through Lydia's hair as the other young woman rested her head in her lap. Derek sat with Melissa on the porch swing, neither one saying a word while Scott and Allison leaned against the porch railing. Erica and Boyd had only left due to Boyd's mother needing some help at home. “Stiles is awake,” Talia announced as she stepped out onto the back porch. She smiled softly as her son was the first one to his feet. She nodded back toward the house, and that was all the waiting Derek gave before he was going inside.

 

Melissa and Scott did not take it personal that Stiles had asked for Derek, as they were sure the two teens needed to talk. Besides, they would get their time with the injured teen when they took Stiles home later, after Deaton finished putting the extra security wards in place.

 

Upstairs, Derek hovered near the doorway as he got to the bedroom, inhaling sharply when he took in the sight of Stiles bruised face in the daylight. It seemed a lot worse in the light than it had the night before. The left side of Stiles' face was bruised and swollen, and there was a cut on his cheek from a ring Matt had worn. His lip was busted, but those injuries were minute compared to the rest. A broken arm, his leg would need some time to heal again as well, bruised ribs, his shoulder.. Derek shuddered to think what would have happened had Lydia not found Stiles. “Are you going to just lurk in the doorway or come over here?” Stiles asked after a moment, setting aside the tea that was held in the hand without a cast on it.

 

“Stiles...” Derek forced the word out as he walked over to the bed, sitting down next to the other teen before carefully pulling him into a firm hug. He could have _lost_ Stiles the night before, and not known anything about it until it was too late. That thought _terrified_ the young beta more than he was willing to say.

 

“I'm okay,” Stiles mumbled as he turned his head so that the uninjured side of his face was pressed against Derek’s shoulder. “I'm sorry. I should have had my phone.”

 

Derek made an odd noise in the back of his throat that Stiles could not explain, but it seemed to be a mix of exasperation and upset at the entire situation. “Shut up. Don't apologize. This isn't your _fault_. I shouldn't have let you go alone.”

 

He shook his head, brow furrowing as Stiles pulled away enough to look at him while hitting his shoulder with the hand that wasn't in a cast. “ _You_ shut up,” Stiles countered with a frown and a nod. “Don't. This isn't... Don't blame yourself, okay? Matt's the one to blame, not either of us.”

 

“But I should have protected you. I can't... Stiles, I can't keep seeing you hurt like this.” Derek shook his head, carefully holding Stiles just a little closer as he pressed a kiss to the top of the other teen's head. It hurt too much to keep seeing Stiles that way, especially when he had been unable to stop it.

 

“S'a hazard I’m willing to take.” His words were all but mumbled as he wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle, careful not to shift himself too much and hurt himself. He would ask more details on what had happened later. For the time being, though, he was glad to just be in Derek’s arms. It was better than knowing all the details. “No. Close your mouth. You're not arguing with me or saying otherwise. I care about you, dumbo, and I’m not going anywhere. Period. No matter what _could_ happen.”

 

Derek sighed softly, reaching up to run his fingers repeatedly through Stiles' hair, giving himself some time to focus on the fact that Stiles was alive and that he would be okay. Matt had not taken Stiles, even though that had, apparently, been the goal. “You're stubborn.”

 

“You knew that.” Stiles' brow rose a little, a faint smirk tugging on his lips, and after a moment, Derek was smiling slightly as well.

 

“Yeah,” the elder teen agreed with a slight nod. “I did.” Stiles was stubborn and frustrating and annoying and perfect. Derek would not trade him for the world. He felt proud to know that Stiles felt strongly about him, even though he feared what could happen to the brown-eyed boy just because of who _he_ was. They would face whatever was going to come next, though. Until then, Derek did not plan on being too far from Stiles' side whenever he could be.


	13. Arc I, Thirteen: Guilt and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After what happened with Matt, Stiles is having some trouble sleeping; and, Derek, well, Derek's still blaming himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

“How's Stiles?” Derek asked Scott when the other teen got to the school on Monday morning. He and Stiles had talked over the phone throughout the weekend, but Derek had been unable to actually go over there due to several pack meetings that were held during that time, and his mother insisting they get some more actual training in.

 

Scott sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head a little. “He's not slept much at all. Unless he fell asleep after I left, he's been up twenty-four hours now,” Scott answered with a faint frown. There were whispers through the halls, rumors of why Matt was no longer in the school. The news had said something about him attacking someone, but not who or why. While Matt had given up Victoria's involvement to Stile, the teen had never said anything in front of the officials, so there was nothing that could be done to the Argents. From what Derek had overheard, though, Talia had given Matt over to a pack up north who weren't very kind to hunters. Everyone in the pack turned a blind eye; Stiles was the one who had gotten hurt, after all.

 

“That bad?” Derek frowned as well, idly tapping his fingers against the basketball that he held with a slightly furrowed brow. He was seriously considering just taking off the rest of the day and going to the Stilinski house.

 

“Yeah... When he does sleep, he keeps having these dreams. He won't tell us about them, but he's in a panic every time he wakes up.” Scott had spent the weekend sleeping in Stiles' room in a sleeping bag on the floor. He would have just shared the bed with his brother, but because of Stiles being hurt, he had not wanted to risk accidentally harming the other teen due to lack of space. Scott had not slept the greatest, either, waking up every time Stiles would. “He can't catch a break, can he?”

 

Derek absentmindedly shook his head, glancing toward the doors at the end of the hall. He was not sure he would be able to focus on school, and he was sure that Scott was in much the same boat. The other teen seemed about ready to drop from his own tiredness from having been up a lot with Stiles. He was sure that Allison would convince him to go over to the house and get some rest instead of finishing out the school day. They all know he would not at his own home, not when Stiles might need him. It was a wonder Melissa had talked Scott into going to school at all, unless Stiles had made him go. “You should go,” Scott said, breaking Derek from his thoughts and making the elder teen look at him. “`M sure Stiles would be glad to see you. He kicked the rest of us out of the house, said he was fine; but...”

 

They all knew well that Stiles being _fine_ usually was just another way of saying that he was not okay and he was going to keep it to himself. After a moment, Derek nodded as the bell rang, making the two teens wince a little from the shrill sound. “Go get some sleep, Scott,” Derek stated as he started to walk toward the door. “You need it.”

 

\---

 

Stiles had convinced Melissa and his father to go on to work, though he really wished that one of them had stayed there with him. He was slightly dizzy from how long he had been awake, but he focused on making himself some tea instead of the tiredness. He did not want to sleep until he just could not fight it anymore. Then, maybe, he would not have any of those nightmares that kept waking him up. Stiles was stiff and sore (he probably should not have been moving around), and his arm itched under the cast he had to wear. He was wearing his knee brace as well, but that did not keep his leg from hurting as he walked around. Stiles put most of his weight onto his right side. Everything hurt, but he was trying not to focus on any one thing for too long. It made it easier.

 

He struggled to actually pour himself a cup of tea and jumped with a gasp at the sound of the doorbell, practically dropping the mug he was using. “Jesus,” Stiles said with a heavy breath as he steadied himself and took a few moments to calm himself down. Then, he made his way to the front door, calming himself by repeatedly telling himself that it was one of his friends at the door. When Stiles finally actually opened the front door, he relaxed almost completely, seeing Derek standing there. “Hey.”

 

Stiles managed a slight smile though Derek could not as he reached out and placed a gentle hand against the side of the teen's face underneath where the gash was still healing. His face looked worse (it felt worse, too), but Melissa had warned Stiles that it would look worse before it got better. Stiles could not wait until he a least felt better again. “I'm fine,” Stiles mumbled in an attempt to assure Derek that he would be okay, using the front of the other teen's shirt to pull Derek into the house instead of letting him continue to stand on the front porch.

 

“You're lying,” Derek replied quietly, his brow furrowing as he stepped in close to Stiles, pressing a kiss to the younger teen's forehead. He heard Stiles sigh heavily, but offer no words in argument. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he wrapped his arms around Derek, all but using the other boy to keep himself upright. Derek gently wrapped his arms around Stiles in turn, not wanting to hurt the teen in his arms any. “You need to get some sleep, Stiles.”

 

“I can't.” Stiles' words came out mumbled and slightly slurred as he kept his eyes closed and ducked his head enough to rest it against the top of Derek's shoulder. The arm that was not in the cast gripped tightly to the back of Derek’s shirt while the other arm was just wrapped around his waist, keeping him close. Stiles gasped softly when he felt Derek’s fingers brush against the small of his back under the hem of his shirt before the elder boy's hand rested there in order to slowly leech some of the pain that he was feeling. “Derek.”

 

Derek stopped with a gasp of his own when he could not handle taking any more of the pain, but he felt his own temporary pain was worth it when Stiles went slightly slack in his arm from the relief given. “Let's get you to your bed,” Derek insisted with a slight nod. “I'll lay with you.”

 

Stiles seemed like he was going to protest, but Derek just carefully picked Stiles up anyway (being mindful of the bruised ribs that made most movements uncomfortable for Stiles), and started to carry him upstairs. “What's keeping you up, Stiles?” Derek asked as he cradled the other teen to his chest. Stiles just shook his head and hid his face in Derek’s shoulder. He did not want to talk about it.

 

Once they were in Stiles' room, Derek carefully placed Stiles on the bed, who turned to lay on his unbruised side while Derek lay down behind him. Stiles sighed softly when Derek’s arm draped around his middle, fingers brushing against his arm with a kiss being pressed to the top of his shoulder. “It's not me,” Stiles said quietly after several long minutes of silence between them in which Derek had almost hoped that the other teen had started to drift off. “When I close my eyes, it's not what happened to me that I see. It's what they could do to you, to Scott... I can't... Nothing is going to be okay, Derek.”

 

“Yes, it will, Stiles,” Derek reassured quietly, nodding before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his boyfriend's face. “We're going to get through this, and we'll all be okay. I promise.”

 

“You can't promise that.” Stiles shook his head a little before turning with a wince to lay on his back so that he could actually look at Derek. “You've already been hurt, and--” Stiles sighed softly when Derek cut him off with a kiss, gently grabbing the younger teen's chin.

 

Derek’s thumb brushed against the skin beneath it as he slowly broke the kiss to smile slightly down at the other teen. “Stiles, we're going to get through this, okay? Things will work out. They have to.” The brown-eyed teen sighed and nodded a little, closing his eyes for a moment as Derek gently kissed him again. “Please, try to get some sleep. You need it.”

 

Stiles seemed ready to argue as Derek absentmindedly brushed the backs of his fingers along the other boy's jawline. However, after a moment, Stiles nodded a little and gently tugged on Derek’s arm to get him to settle down completely on the bed again. Derek complied, draping his arm around the younger teen to carefully hold him close. Stiles eventually started to drift off to sleep as he moved enough to practically drape himself over Derek, the young werewolf holding him close. Stiles hid his face in Derek's shoulder as the other shifted his fingers through his hair. That was how Stiles eventually fell asleep, Derek dozing off soon after.

 

\---

 

When Stiles woke up several hours later, it was already dark outside, which meant it was sometime after five in the evening. That was the worst part of the winter season, Stiles decided. Derek was not there anymore, Stiles realized; but, the space on the bed next to him was still warm, which meant that Derek had not been gone long. The teen lay there in the dark of his room for several more minutes before forcing himself to get out of bed. It was only when he managed to get half-way down the stairs, where he could hear voices and the sound of people in the kitchen, that he realized he had not had any bad dreams nor had he woken up until then after falling asleep.

 

In the doorway to the kitchen, Stiles paused and watched as Derek smiled and laughed as he helped Melissa and Scott with dinner as his father sat at the kitchen table looking over some sort of paperwork. “You're awake!” Scott said with a smile when he stopped focusing on what he was doing enough to actually realize there was someone else in the room and he turned to see Stiles there. “How'd you sleep?”

 

“Really well, actually,” replied Stiles as he went over to sit at the table with his dad. He smiled slightly in thanks to Derek as the elder teen brought him some water and one of the pain pills he had. Stiles really hated taking them, but he could already feel the pain starting to build again. It was probably what had made him wake up in the first place but he had been too sleepy to really notice at first. He smiled a little to himself as he listened to Derek, Scott, and Melissa talk while he sat there. He still felt exhausted and felt as though he could drift off to sleep right there in his seat, but he stayed awake, using his uninjured arm to toy with the glass sitting on the table in front of him.

 

For Stiles, dinner passed by in a slight blur and before he knew it, Derek was taking him back upstairs. The younger teen groaned slightly as Derek walked up the stairs, but otherwise did not comment. Stiles did not want to go back to sleep, but he knew that sleep was probably the best for him. “Stay,” Stiles mumbled as he grabbed Derek’s hand when the other boy bent down to press a kiss to his forehead after he was placed on the bed.

 

Derek did not even seem to hesitate to lay down on the bed with Stiles again. He carefully held the other teen in his arm and nuzzled into Stiles' neck with a faint sigh. Stiles smiled slightly as he lifted his arm, hand moving to the back of Derek’s head so that his fingers could curl into the dark strands of hair. His broken arm stayed pressed to his front so that it would not get jostled too much with any movements. “`M fine,” Stiles mumbled after several long minutes in which Derek did not even realize he had moved a hand underneath Stiles' t-shirt in order to run his fingers carefully along the boy's bruised side. Derek's touch never lingered on the bruising and ghosted over the skin in a way that was never painful or even uncomfortable.

 

The elder teen wanted to argue that Stiles was _not_ fine (he was branded and bruised and had a hole in his shoulder from a fucking _arrow_ and had a broken arm, that was _not_ fine), but he knew Stiles would just stop him and insist again. So, Derek nodded a little instead. “Sleep, Stiles,” Derek stated quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles' shoulder.

 

Stiles protested a little with a soft sound, but the exhausted teen soon fell asleep anyway. Derek could not sleep so easily, however, and he simply remained laying there, holding Stiles as close as he could without further injuring the other teen. No matter how many times Stiles insisted that what had happened was not his fault, Derek could not help but feel some of the blame. He should have watched after Stiles closer, gone with him or made sure someone else did. He should have known something was wrong a lot sooner than he had. This was his luck that he was messing with, and his luck did not allow for many good things.

 

A part of Derek wished that the sheriff would agree with Melissa’s idea to take Stiles and get out of there, but he knew that it would only result in everyone being miserable. Besides, knowing Stiles, the other teen would sneak off and come back without letting his father know. Stiles had made it clear that he was not going anywhere, and the other boy was known for his stubbornness.

 

Maybe Stiles would be safer if they weren't together anymore, if the rest of the pack put distance between themselves and Stiles. Stiles made it all too clear who his loyalty lie with and that made him an easy target. Derek _hated_ that, and he knew that people would continue to try to use Stiles as a way to get to them. Stiles was their weak spot and not because he was human, but because they were all so busy worrying about him in general. Stiles could have been an alpha with all their strength and power, and Derek would worry just the same.

 

He did not know how long he lay there, trying to keep calm while reminding himself over and over that Stiles was _safe_ right there in his arms. He was so unaware of everything around him because of it that he did not realize that Stiles had woken up until the younger teen reached back and tugged on the side of his shirt. “Switch sides,” Stiles mumbled, tugging on the shirt again.

 

“What?” replied Derek, his voice a little more uneven than he would have liked.

 

“Switch sides. I wanna be able to see you.” Stiles nodded a little, tugging on Derek’s shirt again. Stiles would have just turned over to face Derek, but that would have meant laying on his bruised side, and he really did not want to do that. It would be more uncomfortable than he already was. When Derek got up to do that, Stiles scooted backward enough for Derek to actually have room to lay down in front of him. Once they were facing one another, Stiles took Derek’s hand in his own, linking their fingers together. “You were freaking out.” Stiles' voice was tired but even as he nodded a little, not really giving Derek any room to say otherwise. “Stop. It's really not your fault.”

 

Stiles shook his head slightly and closed his eyes with a soft sigh as Derek’s free hand brushed along his jawline. Stiles turned into the touch a little and smiled softly as he looked back to the other teen. “It's not your fault, and I’m going to be okay. Might not heal as fast as you do, but I’ll heal,” Stiles nodded a little as he spoke. He did not voice the thought that loomed in everyone's minds; what if someone attacked again while Stiles was still hurt? He might not be as fine then; and, he _knew_ that Derek worried about that. Scott did too, quite vocally. “Please, just... stop blaming yourself. You couldn't have known what would happen. It's _not_ your fault.”

 

Derek sighed softly and wrapped his arms around Stiles, pulling the other teen close to his front while leaving enough room between them for Stiles' broken arm. He pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead as the younger teen hooked a leg around Derek’s, pressing in as close as he could get to Derek without hurting himself. There was practically no room between them besides the space that was necessary to keep from hurting the already injured teen any more. “Sorry, I just... 'm scared something else is going to happen to you.”

 

“Don't. Just... don't think about it. I’m here, you're here, and we're _safe_. Just... just focus on right now. Not tomorrow.” Stiles nodded a little, tilting his head up enough to press a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's lips.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” Derek nodded a little as he once again let a hand slip under the hem of Stiles' shirt, resting on the small of his back that time to keep the other teen held close. Stiles pressed into the touch absentmindedly, as if reminding both of them that it was there. It was like that, with Stiles talking about whatever came to mind until he just couldn't anymore, that the two of them slowly fell back asleep. Though even as Derek calmed down and relaxed again, Stiles knew that his boyfriend was far from being done worrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to have another chapter out by Saturday but, my birthday is Friday and my parents are taking me out for dinner on Saturday, and I work every day until then; so, don't be surprised if that goal doesn't happen.


	14. Arc I, Fourteen: New Chess Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is finally doing better, and Victoria Argent gets a new chess piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

By the time Stiles was cleared to go back to school, classes were already out for winter break. It was possible that Stiles could fall behind a semester, but if he passed the make-up exams on the first day of the spring term, that would put him back up to speed with the rest of his classmates, and he would graduate on time. It was colder than normal in Beacon Hills that year, and there was actually a small layer of snow on the ground as Stiles stood in the parking lot of the movie theater with his hands in his pockets. He was still not supposed to do anything too strenuous, to avoid re-damaging one of his newest injuries. The teen wore his knee brace more often (such as that day), just to help out; and, his cast was still on for a few more weeks. Stiles was just glad his face was no longer bruised up, and the brand on his shoulder had scarred over so it no longer hurt.

 

He winced every time he saw it in the mirror, though. It was not the time to be thinking about things like that, however. Thinking about it just made him sad, and Derek was supposed to be there at any minute. The last thing Stiles wanted was for Derek to worry that something was wrong. Stiles was unable to keep from smiling when he thought about his boyfriend. Derek was just... well, amazing was not quite a strong enough word in Stiles' opinion. Yet, that was the one that he chose to use. There wasn't a right word, he realized after a moment; but, that was okay. Stiles really didn't need a word.

 

The smile on his face brightened even more when he saw Derek park the Camaro in one of the empty parking spaces. He pulled his hands out of his pockets as the other teen got out of the car, and when Derek was close enough, Stiles pulled him into a tight hug. Derek chuckled a little as he wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, nearly lifting the other boy up with the hug. “Cold?” he asked, smiling a little as Stiles pressed his face against his neck with a nod. “You should've waited in the car, weirdo.”

 

“Wasn't out here that long,” replied Stiles, his voice muffled by the side of Derek’s neck. He knew the other teen could hear him, though. With another smile, Stiles pulled away enough to press a light kiss to Derek’s lips while linking the fingers of one hand with the other boy's. “C'mon, let's go inside.”

 

Derek offered up no protest as he let Stiles lead him inside. The younger teen's shoulders immediately relaxed once they were inside the warmth, but Derek let go of Stiles' hand to wrap an arm around him anyway. Stiles smiled and leaned into his side slightly as they walked, forgoing getting any snacks that time (Stiles had some in his backpack, anyway). The two teens chose seats near the back of the theater, and Stiles immediately lifted up the armrest between their seats so that he could lean into Derek’s side with the elder boy's arm around his waist, hugging him close. Stiles smiled softly to himself as he rested his head on Derek’s shoulder, feeling his boyfriend's head rest against his own. The previews were not to start for another few minutes and Stiles idly ran his fingers along Derek’s arm as they waited. “Laura's coming home for Christmas,” Derek said after a few moments.

 

“Oh? Any idea when she'll be here?” questioned Stiles. Laura was the one Hale that Stiles had not spent too much time with. Whenever she was home, it was never more than a few hours at a time. Her job at the state's capitol kept her away. Plus, she was a part of a group who were monitoring the government's movements, to make sure they were up to date on possible attacks.

 

Derek smiled and mumbled that he would finish telling Stiles later as the lights around them dimmed and the previews started playing. Stiles smiled a little to himself and snuggled closer to Derek, the grin growing even more when he felt his boyfriend's fingers shifting through his hair absently. It was nice, being able to spend time with Derek outside of the house. His parents were very supportive of his relationship with Derek (even if Scott still was not completely on board), which made it to where they avoided any awkward situations; but, still. The change in scenery was nice.

 

The movie was good, nothing amazing, but Stiles did not mind at all. He was just glad for the time with Derek, not that they had spent much time apart since Stiles had gotten hurt at the dance. Still, there was a part of Stiles that completely marveled at the fact that someone like Derek Hale actually wanted to spend time with him. It was not that he was extremely unpopular or anything (at least not until late), but he'd never quite considered himself on the same level that Derek, Scott, and the others were on. Of course, Stiles could not help but smile when he could all but hear Lydia scoff at that thought. She'd just roll her eyes at him and pat his face before stating that he was being ridiculous again.

 

When the movie was over, the two teens made their way back outside, discussing the film. Stiles turned his face up slightly when he realized there were light flurries falling. Snow was not completely uncommon in Beacon Hills, but it was never usually more than a dusting. The weather channel, however, was predicting something different that year. Stiles was startled out of his thoughts with a slight laugh when Derek tugged him closer by his belt loops. He had not even realized they'd gotten out to his car, which Derek was leaning against. “Hi,” Stiles said with a smile before he gently kissed the elder teen. His face flushed slightly from the cold and a little at the intensity of the gaze Derek fixed on him when he pulled away, a slight smile tugging up on his boyfriend's lips. “What?”

 

Derek laughed softly and shook his head a little as he smiled fully. “Nothing,” he replied letting go of Stiles' belt loops to run his hands along the other boy's arms . He then linked his fingers with Stiles' free ones, his other hand simply resting on the cast still on Stiles' arm. “Just watching. Come over for dinner? I’m sure everyone's dying to see you again.”

 

Stiles smiled and nodded a little as he said, “Yeah, I can do that.” He'd seen Allison and Derek a lot while he was stuck at the house, but none of the others really. Lydia had stopped by once or twice, but he was always asleep. Talia had sent them a lot of Stiles' favorite cookies that she made, but she had not visited the house. Stiles was glad for the small amount of visitors, especially when things were really bad there for a while. He almost did not even want to see _Derek_ there for a while when he was looking worse for wear. “I'll meet you there?”

 

“Yeah.” Derek nodded with a slight smile, though he did not let go of Stiles' hand or make any move to head over to his own car. Instead, he gently squeezed Stiles' hand and leaned in to kiss his boyfriend once again. He smiled slightly against Stiles' lips when the other boy let out a faint hum of contentment, tugging on Derek’s hand to make him stand up straight so that they were closer together.

 

Derek was the first to break the kiss and he chuckled softly when Stiles let out a slight huff of annoyance, though they were both smiling. “I love you, Stiles,” Derek said quietly after a few moments of simply watching Stiles once again.

 

The younger teen seemed to freeze in place, just standing there for a moment before a smile slowly spread across his face again. Stiles then practically jumped on Derek with a hug after quickly untangling their fingers. His hand slipped into Derek’s hair as he kissed the elder teen deeply while Derek hugged him close, practically lifting him off the ground. That time, when Stiles broke the kiss it was with a soft, practically breathless laugh and another smile as he said, “I love you, too.”

 

\---

 

Meanwhile, at the Whittemore house, Isaac sat alone on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. Jackson was out with his parents, as his mother wanted to do some kind of family bonding dinner thing. She had wanted to invite Isaac as well, but they had decided in the end to just leave it as a Whittemores-only dinner. Isaac was not very hungry anyway, so he was not upset in the slightest. He just honestly had no idea what to do with himself when he was alone in the Whittemore house. As much as he was thankful for them giving him a place to stay, Isaac still did not feel like that house was his _home_. Jackson was really the only reason he remained there. Isaac idly tapped his fingers on his leg, worrying at his lower lip while just staring at the television which was off.

 

After a few more minutes, Isaac got up and went into the kitchen to look for something to make himself to eat. He piddled around the kitchen, trying to keep himself busy for a little longer. A faint frown tugged on Isaac’s lips as he worked, glancing over his shoulder toward the doorway every few moments. The longer he stood there, the more his stomach tightened unpleasantly. He fidgeted as he finished making the macaroni and cheese. Then the teen let out a heavy breath and took his bowl of food into the living room once he was done.

 

When he got in there, there was someone standing in there with their back toward him. “Uh... how did you get in here?” Isaac asked, slowly taking a step backward as his entire body tensed. He quickly glanced down the hallway toward the back door, considering trying to make a run for it.

 

“Oh, relax, Isaac Lahey,” said the woman as she slowly turned around, arms crossing over her chest with a terrifying grin. “I just want to _talk_ about your little werewolf boyfriend.”

 

“Victoria,” the teen all but breathed the word out as he let the bowl slip out of his grip. She just smiled brightly at him and Isaac took off in a sprint toward the back door. Isaac did not stop to see if she followed as he fumbled with the locks. As he stepped outside, he walked right into a fist flying at his face, which immediately caused him to black out and he crumpled toward the ground.

 

The Whittemore house was quiet save the click of Victoria’s high heeled shoes as she walked down the hallway. “Pick him up. Remove the evidence before the pup gets back,” she insisted, her voice sharp and cutting as two thugs lingering out on the back porch nodded. One of the men moved inside while the other almost effortlessly picked up Isaac off the ground. Victoria followed that man out to the waiting black car with tinted windows and no license plates.

 

\---

 

 

“Isaac?” Jackson called as he and his parents walked in the front door. He missed the small smiles his parents shared behind him. They were glad that Jackson was opening up to _someone_. Tom and Becky Whittemore stilled their steps when Jackson froze in front of them, their son tensing slowly as he looked slowly around the living room. “He's not here.” Jackson’s words seemed thick in his throat.

 

“Maybe he went to go lay down, sweetheart,” Becky said with a slight frown as she walked over to Jackson, only to frown more when the teen jerked away from her attempted touch to his shoulder.

 

Jackson shook his head as he fumbled to pull out his cell phone. “N-no. Isaac’s not here.” There wasn't a note anywhere or a text or even a phone call; and, when Jackson tried to call Isaac’s cell phone, it went straight to voicemail. Jackson’s next instinct was to call Stiles, who seemed to have been woken up by the call when he answered. “Is Isaac with you?”

 

“Huh?” Stiles mumbled out, rubbing his eyes as he sat up straight on the couch there in the Hale living room. He guessed he had fallen asleep watching movies with Derek and Cora. “Isaac? No, he's not here. I’m at Derek’s.”

 

The popular teen swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair as he said, “Stiles, Isaac’s gone... I can't... there's not a new scent here or anything. I can't... Stiles. I can't breathe.”

 

“Whoa, okay. Jackson just breathe with me,” Stiles insisted, gesturing for Cora and Derek to follow him. “In. Out.” Stiles instructed slowly and clearly, breathing along with his instruction. “Just keep breathing Jackson, we'll be there soon.” Stiles reluctantly hung up his phone once Jackson seemed to be okay for the time being. “Isaac's missing and Jackson’s freaking out.”

 

A short while later, Stiles, Derek, and Cora made their way into the Whittemore house without knocking. Tom and Becky sat solemnly on the couch, watching as Jackson paced in front of them. Stiles could feel it as soon as they walked into the living room. Something was _wrong_ about that room. It felt odd, stifled in a way that Stiles could not quite explain. “Jackson,” he said, his voice making the other teen start with a slight flash of gold eyes. “Hey, dude, just relax. I’m sure he just went out for a walk or something. We'll find him.”

 

Jackson shook his head, running his fingers through his hair several times. “No,” replied Jackson in a shaky tone, “it's not... something's wrong, Stiles. Surely you can _feel_ it. Isaac would not just leave without saying something. He wouldn't--” Jackson stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Something's not right.”

 

“My dad can't do anything.” Stiles shook his head a little with a slightly furrowed brow. “Not yet anyway, but we can look for him on our own until he can help. Maybe he just forgot to say something.”

,

\---

 

 

Isaac inhaled deeply through his nose when he came to, tensing almost immediately. He was not sure where he was beyond being in a darkened room, save the light from the window far across the room. He felt sore, his arms being tugged uncomfortably behind his back. They were tied together with some kind of rope, and _holygod_ , Isaac’s stomach dropped uncomfortably, tightening somewhere low in his torso. Victoria and her goons had gotten him. Isaac felt groggy, almost as though he had taken allergy medication. The teen tried to tug on the ropes keeping him bound, but it did not work in his advantage. The teen's gaze snapped up immediately when he heard the click of high heels heading his direction.

 

Several feet away, Victoria Argent came to stand in a square of pale light filtering in from the single window in the room closer toward the door. There was a smile on her face, a look that could almost be described as friendly if it were not for the glint in her eyes. “Hello, Isaac,” she said as she continued to walk forward, slipping into the shadows until she came to a stop directly in front of him. “Glad to see that you're awake.” She reached out and patted the side of his face, a faint smirk tugging on her lipstick coated lips as he flinched.

 

“Don't touch me,” Isaac squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, flexing his fingers a few times to try to get more feeling to them.

 

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not someone you need to fear.” Victoria smiled as she crouched down enough to lock eyes with the teen. “As long as you _tell me what I want_!” Her voice raised to a yell with the last part of her sentence and Isaac flinched again with a faint noise of distress in the back of his throat.

 

“Fuck you.” Isaac stumbled with the words, and they came out shakier than he would have liked, especially since Victoria just seemed to laugh as she straightened up.

 

The politician smoothed out the front of her skirt as she said, “You will tell me everything about the Hale pack and their plans, Isaac Lahey, or your little boyfriend is dead.” With another charming smile, Victoria Argent turned to leave Isaac alone in the cold room. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, silently praying to find a way out.

 

Isaac must have eventually fallen asleep, or blacked out, because the next thing he knew, he was being jerked back to awareness by someone yanking on his hair to tilt his head back enough to expose his neck. Isaac struggled as best he could with being bound to a chair. “Who is all in the Hale Pack?” a distinctly masculine voice said in his ear as Isaac felt a blade being pressed against his throat.

 

The teen struggled to take in a full breath, swallowing thickly before saying, “I don't know.”

 

“You're lying,” the voice growled, causing Isaac to flinch more than the blade pressing deeper into his skin did.

 

“Careful now, Diego,” Victoria Argent said as she came striding into the room, her husband close behind her. “We need him to talk and damaging his throat hinders that.”

 

Chris Argent inhaled sharply through his nose when he noticed the person Diego was backing away from was a _teenager_ , no older than their own daughter was. “Victoria, he's a _child_ ,” Chris hissed, only to flinch when Victoria nearly hit him in the face with a vague wave of her hand.

 

Saying nothing else, Victoria continued to walk until she was over at a table off to Isaac’s right. He could not see what was on it, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “He's in allegiance with our enemies, Christopher,” Victoria said as she let her red painted nails pass over each tool set out on the table. They were coated in concentrated wolfsbane, something more for their _furry friends_ than for Isaac; but, Victoria knew well that even humans could be effected by the poison. “Now, Isaac, tell me who is in the Hale Pack. Who is defending them besides you and _Stilinski_?”

 

Isaac clenched his jaw and his fists, raising his chin defiantly as he kept his gaze focused on the corner opposite of where Victoria stood. He heard the woman click her tongue against her teeth as she started to walk toward him but he refused to look. “Didn't your mother ever teach you to speak when you're spoken to?” she asked the shaking teen in front of her, not even bothering to glance over her shoulder at the sounds of Chris turning and quickly leaving the room with a mutter of not being able to watch. Isaac continued to stay quiet, though he looked to the woman that was much too close for comfort by that point, and he found himself looking at a deceptively sweet smile that was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

\---

 

 

In the woods surrounding Beacon Hills, there were several search parties of people calling his name. They had started in the middle of town and made their way outward. Sheriff Stilinski was surprised at the amount of volunteers that had shown up, knowing that Isaac was known as being friends with Stiles and Scott. Then again, John was fairly sure that Jackson had something to do with that. A glance toward the young werewolf made John frown a little again. He reached over and placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, making the boy jump. “We'll find him, son,” John promised with a nod, having every intention of keeping that promise.

 

John looked over to where Stiles and Derek were walking, the two of them exchanging worried glances every so often while Derek continued to be on the lookout for anything one of the human search party members might miss seeing as Jackson was too distraught to really do much past continuing to try to keep himself together.

 

Jackson’s hands were clenched into fists inside his jacket pockets and worried eyes continuously scanned the horizon around them. John wished there was more he could do. There _had_ to be something more that they could do. He had a sinking feeling that he knew who was behind Isaac’s disappearance; but, without proof, John just had to keep up hope that they were not going to be too late.

 

\---

 

Isaac was sure the sound he let out as he moved could have been considered a whimper, but he could care less at that point. He was shaking all over and he could not see out of one eye due to it being swollen shut. His entire body hurt and he could not help but wonder if Stiles had felt just as horrible as he did when the other teen was in a similar position. That just made him feel sick, though, and he had to quickly shove the thought away. Isaac knew he had been gone a lot longer than Stiles had been; and, he was also sure that his friends, that _Jackson_ , was looking for him. They had to be. Right?

 

“The _police_ are looking for him, Victoria!” Isaac heard the muffled shouts of Christopher somewhere above him. Despite the fact that the action hurt, the curly-haired teen could not keep from smiling a little at that information. Of course John Stilinski would not sit out of things. Whatever Victoria said in response was too quiet and calm for Isaac to pick up. He did, however, hear the sound of something breaking, which made him jump in his seat with a soft gasp and a groan. “God damn it! There's a Code for a reason! We can't go around kidnapping and torturing _human_ teenagers!” There was more silence followed by a barely inaudible, “Of course I’m right.”

 

It was quiet again after that and Isaac felt himself starting to nod off, hoping that maybe sleeping, even in that uncomfortable position where he was slumped forward on the chair against his restraints, would help him forget the pain for a while. He never quite made it to sleep, however, before the sound of the door opening caught his attention and he slowly looked up. Victoria Argent came walking into the room again, once again she was not alone. That time, however, someone with eyes that glowed red followed. “Hello, Isaac,” Victoria said, a bright smile on her face.


	15. Arc I, Fifteen: Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac is still missing, but for how long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Jackson paced back and forth in the Hale living room, growling lowly under his breath every few moments. He was worried about Isaac, about what could have been happening to his boyfriend. Would Isaac regress farther into himself afterward? Would they even _find_ him? He wanted to keep looking, but it was nearing midnight and Talia was right. They needed sleep.

 

Stiles sat awake upstairs in Derek’s room, staring blankly at the wall. He was more pale than usual, trying to tell himself repeatedly that they _would_ find Isaac. “I want to kill them,” Stiles mumbled when Derek pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder, sitting down next to him. “It's the Argents, I _know_ it.” The only thing he did not know was where Isaac was being held. He had no doubts, however, that it was Victoria Argent behind Isaac’s disappearance. Even Allison said that she would not put it past her mother.

 

“I know,” replied Derek, sighing softly as he lay back on the bed, running his fingers through his hair. “I hate not being able to do anything. Isaac doesn't deserve this.”

 

“None of us do,” Stiles reminded his boyfriend as he turned enough to look back at the elder teen. “We're living in the beginning stages of all-out war, Derek; this isn't something any of us should be dealing with. We're _seventeen_.”

 

“I'll be eighteen in a few days.” Derek chuckled a little when Stiles glared at him in response. The elder teen then reached up and gently grabbed Stiles' hand, tugging just enough for the other teen to take the lead and lay down next to him. “We'll find Isaac, okay? We will.”

 

Stiles idly wet his lips and nodded a little as he settled down on the bed more, pressing in along Derek’s side while resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. He closed his eyes with a faint sigh as he felt Derek’s fingers shifting through his hair. Stiles had no doubts that they would find Isaac again. His only fear was what condition they would find his friend in when they did get to him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Isaac trembled as he sat curled up in the corner of the room, pressing as close to the wall as he could. Mountain ash lined the few windows in the room, and Isaac knew there were guards just outside the door; he would have known that even if he could not smell their terrible cologne or hear their heartbeats.

 

He was not sure how long he had been there, but all he knew was the bruising on his face was no longer healing. Of course, Isaac could have unwittingly been doing that to himself. The gashes on his back and sides from a whip Victoria used that had been soaked in a type of wolfsbane were still open and bleeding. They stung every time he moved. Isaac refused to talk, however. He would not let her hurt anyone else. “I can take it,” Isaac mumbled to himself, reminding himself that he was used to the pain and this time, someone was looking for him.

 

Isaac tensed where he sat when he heard the door open, followed by a single set of footsteps. Isaac cautiously peeked over his shoulder toward the door only to see Chris Argent walking toward him, both hands raised in a submissive gesture. “I don't want to hurt you, Isaac,” the man said slowly before he carefully held a hand out toward the teen. “Let me get you out of here.”

 

Isaac's brow furrowed as he watched Argent's hand. “Why?” he croaked out after a moment.

 

“Because...” Chris Argent frowned keeping his hand extended. “I would have had a daughter your age. What Victoria is doing is wrong.”

 

Isaac kept his gaze on Chris for a few breaths. “Allison’s alive.” Chris' face paled and his mouth opened slightly in shock. “She's a Hale now. Healthy beta.”

 

“Victoria said a werewolf ki--”

 

“ _Victoria tried_ to kill her.” Isaac watched as Chris' expression changed from sadness to anger, and the teen flinched.

 

Isaac curled in on himself more and Chris sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair repeatedly before glancing up toward the ceiling, where two floors above his wife was sleeping peacefully. “Come on, Isaac,” Chris said kindly after another moment, “I'm taking you home.”

 

The teen seemed to watch Chris with an expression of extreme doubt on his features, but after a moment, Isaac took the man's extended hand and let Chris help him to his feet. Chris then held a finger up to his lips and started to walk toward the door, not even glancing over his shoulder to see if Isaac was following. The teen was, limping a little as he walked and wincing with each step as it sent a wave of pain through his entire torso as he did.

 

Stepping out into the hallway, Isaac’s mouth formed a small “o” when he saw that the two men that had been standing guard outside of the door were laying unconscious on the floor. Chris must have done that, he guessed as he almost silently followed the man through the house and outside to where a car with dark-tinted windows sat. Isaac clenched his teeth to avoid a whimper as he let Chris help him get into the car, nearly collapsing into the seat as he finally got in. Isaac closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath as Chris hurried to the driver's side and started the car. The entire time they sped out of the driveway and onto the road, Isaac could not help but feel that escape was all too easy. However, with a glance over to Chris, Isaac simply told himself that Victoria would never suspect her own husband of betraying her as he was. That would be their element of surprise.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Stiles was the only one still awake. Jackson only fell asleep after Talia had given him some tea. Stiles quietly changed clothes into some jeans, a t-shirt, and his hoodie before he made his way downstairs. After tugging on one of Derek’s coats, Stiles went out onto the porch. He only made it to the bottom step when he stopped, eyes narrowing as he watched a car coming to a stop in the drive in front of him. Stiles brow furrowed a little as someone stepped out of the car, and he gasped a little when he could finally see that it was Chris Argent as the man moved to go around the car. Stiles wanted to yell, but his voice seemed to catch in his throat when Chris opened the passenger side door in order to help a very bruised and shaky Isaac out of the car. Isaac flinched out of Chris' grasp as soon as he was out of the car. “Isaac,” Stiles breathed, finding his voice again as he rushed over to his friend's side. He only refrained from touching him when the other teen flinched with a faint flash of gold eyes. “Oh. Isaac.” Stiles studied his friend for another moment before he turned to the house to call for Talia, only to find the Hale alpha already standing on the porch.

 

“Christopher Argent,” she said as she calmly descended the stairs, the rest of the pack slowly appearing behind her as she came to a stop several feet away. The only thing that kept Jackson from running to Isaac was Scott and Derek each having a hand on either of his shoulders. “Why are you here?”

 

“Victoria and her men kidnapped this boy,” Chris explained, though his gaze did not leave the spot where Allison stood, tugging Scott's jacket closer around her body. “I could not just leave him there after I found out what she had done, and I got him out as soon as I could without her killing us both.”

 

Talia pursed her lips as she studied the man several hundred yards before her. “You do not agree with your wife's antics?”

 

“ _We hunt those who hunt us_. That is the Code that I have faith in. I kept hoping this madness would stop, but after a rouge killed Allison, or so she had said, Victoria has been worse. But, I never thought she would harm someone _innocent_. I cannot be a part of that. I will not.”

 

“You put yourself in position of being killed right along with us, Argent.”

 

Chris wet his lips idly, nodding a little as though he had already come to terms with his fate. “I know.” He nodded once again, taking a deep breath of cold night are. “Thank you.”

 

At that, Talia's brow furrowed as she studied Chris, trying to make sense of his words. “For what?”

 

“For taking care of my daughter.” There was a sharp intake of breath from Allison as tears filled her eyes. “I never knew... Just, thank you.”

 

Talia then glanced over at Allison, who gave a minute nod, before she turned her attention back to Chris. “You may stay here.” Talia then swept across the yard to where Isaac stood and gently took the teen's chin in her hand. Isaac flinched very slightly but seemed to relax into her touch after a moment, a faint whine escaping the teen. “Let's get you inside, sweetheart.” Talia smiled warmly as she nodded, an action that Isaac mimicked. “Jackson.”

 

She said nothing else, but the mentioned teen took the sign to rush to Isaac’s side to help him into the house. He could not mask his frown as Isaac seemed to shy away from his touch; it hurt, but he understood. He wanted to rip Victoria apart.

 

The rest of the night, Stiles sat awake with Derek on the couch, his boyfriend's arm around his shoulders. The younger teen stayed pressed close to Derek’s side, idly toying with the strings in the hoodie that he wore. “I can't believe she turned him,” Stiles mumbled, glancing over toward the stairs. Talia, Deaton, and Jackson were up there tending to Isaac’s wounds and starting to try to teach him about control. Isaac still flinched from any touch sans Talia's that lasted for longer than a few seconds. “And sh-she...”

 

“Stiles,” sighed Derek, turning his head to brush a kiss against his boyfriend's forehead. “Try not to think about it.”

 

“He just got out of that kind of situation, Derek. He... this is going to be harder on him than it would have been for me.” Stiles' voice was unsteady as he spoke, shifting just enough to wrap both his arms around Derek’s waist, letting Derek tug him even closer so that he was practically in the other boy's lap. “Can we prove it was Victoria?”

 

“She'd have destroyed the evidence as soon as she realized Chris and Isaac were gone.” Derek nodded absently as he spoke, having no doubts that she would not make sure no one could prove that Isaac had ever been there. It would have turned into a case of he-said/she-said.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“He refuses to go downstairs,” Derek told Stiles and John as the three of them sat in the kitchen of the Stilinski-McCall home. It was well into the evening on the day after Isaac had been returned. So far, he had only really opened up to Talia and Jackson. Even Jackson could not get as close as they used to. Isaac would start panicking if Jackson so much as tried to hug him. He learned the hard way how strong Isaac could be when scared. Jackson was not sure what to do, and Derek did not blame him. If roles were reversed, he would have been just as lost. The thought alone had him idly squeezing Stiles' hand, their fingers linked together and resting on the other teen's thigh underneath the table.

 

John Stilinski sighed and rested his head against his hand, elbow on the table to hold his head up. “This is getting out of hand,” the man said quietly, sighing as he shook his head a little. He knew he was not the only one who could feel it. It was as if everything was building and escalating; soon enough, it would all explode and John was not sure how they would fare when it did. “What is your mother thinking, Derek?”

 

“I don't know,” replied the teen with a slight frown, using his free hand to idly twist his coffee cup on the table in front of him. “She's not said much since Isaac’s gotten back. Not to us, anyway. She's been with Deaton and Jackson, trying to help Isaac. It's... it's not going so well.”

 

“I think Jackson’s slowly getting through to him,” commented Stiles, his gaze mostly focused on his own cup of tea in front of him. “Whatever happened to Isaac was really bad, and then the whole Chris thing... Allison’s not really talked to him yet. She's not ready to.”

 

“Understandably,” John replied with a nod and another sigh before his attention turned to the doorway as Melissa walked in.

 

She held up a plastic bag filled with smaller paper ones with a small smile as she said, “Picked up some lunch. Derek are you joining us?”

 

“If that's not a problem,” answered the teen, smiling over at Melissa as she set the bag on the counter and started to remove its contents.

 

“Of course not. You're more than welcome here, kiddo.”

 

Meanwhile, across town at the Hale house, Jackson finally got to where he could lay down on the bed next to Isaac. He did not press in close like he usually would have, but he did have a gentle hand resting on Isaac’s forearm, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin there while carefully avoiding the salve-covered gashes that Victoria had left on him. Deaton had created some kind of lotion to put on the injuries, he promised they would help Isaac heal quickly. Talia had been the one to put the salve onto the teen's injuries, as he flinched away when anyone else had tried.

 

Isaac closed his eyes and took a slow and deep, steadying breath. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, his voice still hoarse and scratchy-feeling when he spoke. “I know you're not going to hurt me, I-I just...”

 

“No,” replied Jackson as he shook his head a little, barely squeezing Isaac’s arm with his hand in a reassuring gesture. “Please don't apologize. This isn't your fault.”

 

“It makes you sad. I can see it in your eyes.” Isaac mumbled the words as he barely looked up at Jackson through the fringe of the curly hair that fell into his eyes with the way his head was tipped downward. “I don't like making you sad.”

 

Jackson idly wet his lips as he lifted his hand to gently place his fingers on the other teen's chin. Isaac flinched slightly but did not pull away before he lifted his head as Jackson carefully led him to. “ _You_ are not making me sad. I am sad, and I’m pissed off; but, not at you, Zac. I was lost without you here, y'know, terrified and I didn't know what to do. I’m just glad that we got you back; that I got you back.”

 

Isaac smiled faintly for what seemed like the first time as he slowly reached up and placed his own hand on Jackson’s forearm. The touch was halting, hesitant as Isaac’s fingers brushed against the other boy's skin; but, he did not pull away. “I-I know you guys w-were looking for me,” Isaac continued to speak in a whispered mumble. “That made it e-easier.”

 

“I'm just sorry we did not find you in time.” Jackson nodded a little, his brow furrowing slightly. After a moment, though, he smiled softly and gently took Isaac’s hand in his own. He lifted Isaac’s hand enough to press a gentle kiss to the tips of his fingers, pausing only for a moment at Isaac’s sharp intake of breath only to continue when the other teen did not pull away.

 

“I'll be okay.” Isaac nodded a little, wincing slightly as he shifted on the bed to lift his other hand in order to let his fingers brush along Jackson’s jaw line. He smiled faintly when Jackson lifted his eyes in order to look up at him again. “I-I just... I need time, but I’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

 

Jackson smiled then, wanting nothing more than to pull Isaac into his arms and keep him there forever. He was not going to press his luck, however, not sure if Isaac was ready for that kind of contact at all. As much as he wanted to just do what _he_ wanted, Jackson kept Isaac’s wants and needs at the forefront of his mind. Until Isaac was ready, just laying there next to him, being able to watch him breathing and even smiling a little was more than enough to tide Jackson over.

 

Snow fell that evening, while everyone slept. Stiles and Derek were asleep on the couch in the Stilinski living room, with Melissa and John upstairs in their room. The rest of the pack was at the Hale house, in their designated rooms. It was calm, quiet, and almost peaceful. The world outside seemed to be muffled as Isaac watched the snow fall through the window in the room he shared with Jackson. His boyfriend was asleep on the bed, but Isaac continued to sit there in the boxseat window overlooking the back yard. There was that feeling again, that nagging tug that whatever was going on was not over. Isaac closed his eyes and took a deep breath, causing the glass to fog up for a moment.

 

There was more snow than Isaac had ever seen in Beacon Hills before, but the white made the flashlights through the trees shine and sparkle. Isaac’s brow furrowed as he slowly stood up, watching the beams of light slowly inch closer. He lifted his gaze enough to see the glow of town in the near-distance. It was an orange color that made his heart fall. “Talia!” Isaac called as he stumbled away from the window and toward the hallway. Every motion made the newly formed scars on his body tug in a painful way, but he could not think on it as he rushed toward the alpha's bedroom. The door opened even before he reached it, showing Talia Hale tying on a robe over her sleep clothes. “Talia, hunters... they're coming.”


	16. Arc II, One: The Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's going to change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to apologize for taking so long to update this story. I needed some time to take a step back from it and evaluate where I wanted to take it and what was going to happen next. I had thought about ending the story after this chapter and moving on to a sequel, but instead I decided to split it into two story arcs. This chapter begins arc two. I hope to update more regularly from here on out!

“Come on, everybody,” Talia urged as she helped one of her young nieces into her jacket. “We need to hurry.”

 

Allison, Scott, Jackson, and Isaac helped the adults get all of the children ready. Chris used Talia's cell phone to try to get a hold of Derek or Stiles, even John or Melissa. “Nobody's answering,” Chris called over the din of everyone moving about.

 

Talia frowned, handing off one of the medical kits to Laura for her to put into the car as she helped load the little ones into the van. “Keep trying, but we cannot stay here and wait for them.”

 

“We can't leave them!” Scott insisted, frowning as he looked in the direction he could hear the hunters coming from. They were too close, but not close enough to realize their approach was already known.

 

“We will find them, Scott.” Talia nodded, even though her mouth remained slightly pinched. “For now, everyone into the cars. We must leave, _now_!” With a final saddened look, Talia climbed into the passenger seat of a car that her brother was driving. She took her cell phone back from Chris and watched as the teens got into the second van before they all started to pull out of the driveway. Talia tapped her fingers against the side of the phone before she used it to call someone who may be able to help them leave town. She waited impatiently as the line rang several times before the call was finally answered. “Hello, Alan.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Across town outside the Stilinski house, Stiles was coughing as he tried to take quick breaths of smoke-free air as he looked back up at the house before him engulfed in flames. Derek grabbed Stiles' shoulders as the teen took a step toward the house, and Stiles glared at him. “My dad's in there!”

 

“I'll get him, Stiles,” Derek insisted with a slight nod, gently squeezing his boyfriend's shoulder. “Get out of here!” Stiles' brow furrowed and he looked between the burning house and Derek several times. “Just _go_ , Stiles. I’ll come find you.”

 

Stiles seemed ready to argue, but after a moment, he nodded and wet his lips taking several steps backward before turning and running off. Derek took a deep breath of his own as he turned to look at the burning Stilinski-McCall home in front of him, and he rushed inside. The young werewolf held an arm over his face, squinting to try to see through the brightness that filled the place. “Sheriff!” Derek called as well as he could over the sounds of the house catching fire around him. “Melissa!” He coughed as he held his arm closer to his mouth, struggling to breathe through the thick air. He gasped and ducked out of the way before something fell on him.

 

Shaking it off, Derek quickly made his way up the stairs, knowing that Melissa and John had gone up there to sleep last that he had known. “Melissa! Sheriff Stilinski!” Derek struggled to call out their names, coughing and breathing heavily through the thick smoke. He could hear the faint shouts of different hunters outside and he could only hope that Stiles had gotten away.

 

“Derek!” he heard the call of John Stilinski from behind the bedroom door. There was a large beam already in front of the door and if the way that it was shaking was any indication, John was trying to bust it down.

 

Derek moved closer to the door, eying the beam to see if it would cause something else to collapse if he moved it before he said, “Watch the ceiling and move out of the way!” Derek could only hope that the sheriff had actually heard him and done as instructed before he quickly yanked away the pillar, throwing himself into the door at the same time to avoid a section of the ceiling above him falling on him. The force of his fall along with the debris caused the door to give and Derek soon found himself on the ground in John and Melissa’s bedroom, a large wooden beam pinning his leg to the floor. It caused all the breath to be knocked out of him, and for several long moments, Derek’s world went black.

 

Meanwhile, several blocks away Stiles came to a stop as he struggled to breathe. He turned to look to where he could still see the glow of his house up in flames. His heart stuttered in his chest, worried about Derek, about his dad, about Melissa... Stiles quickly searched his pockets for his phone, but it was nowhere to be found. There were screams from different places throughout the town, fires being started up here and there. Stiles' breath became more unsteady the longer he stood there, and he shook where he was as he lifted his hands to press them to his ears. Only minutes before he had been asleep in his boyfriend's arms, talking about the upcoming school semester only hours before that.

 

It all seemed so trivial compared to the screeching tires and gunshots sounding out. The world was falling apart around him, felt as though it was spinning non-stop. He could barely hang on, barely breathe; and, before he knew it, Stiles was being ushered into the back of a van. “You're going to be alright!” Stiles heard someone say, though it was muffled behind the ringing in his ears. Slowly, Stiles came to the realization that he knew none of the people around him, though they all seemed just as sad, just as terrified. There was blood on some of them, soot and mud on others. He could hear someone saying something about him, something about the Hales but none of it truly registered as he found himself reaching for the door handle.

 

He did not care that the van was moving as he threw himself out of it, landing with a grunt on the grass near-by as he rolled to a stop. It hurt and Stiles was pretty sure his knee would not thank him later; but, all he knew was that he needed to get back to Derek, back to his dad. He was not sure why he had let Derek send him off in the first place. It was as if he ran on auto-pilot, somehow finding himself back on his street just in time to come stumbling to a stop as his home simply collapsed in on itself, smoke and ash flying into the air and covering everything near-by as it went. Stiles' heart dropped low in his chest as he stood there shaking, hoping to catch sight of someone, _anyone_ in the backyard, but he could not see anyone, nor was there anyone in the street save for him and the van that had followed him with someone exiting it calling him a suicidal _fool_.

 

Stiles could not stop shaking as he finally let one of the women lead him back to the van, and he took no comfort in her reassuring words that they were heading to one of the safe points, in her promises that they would try to reach his pack for him. Talia would be at one of them, the woman promised; but, Stiles did not care about Talia. All he cared about was the fact that he had no idea what happened to his parents, to Derek; they were in that house, at least they had been when he left. Had they still been inside? A part of Stiles wanted to believe that they had not been, but a body-wracking sob escaped him nonetheless, as a whole different side told him that there was little chance they had gotten out of there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His wrist was broken again, and his knee was severely bruised. There were different scrapes and cuts, and he was lucky to have not hurt himself more than he had when he'd thrown himself from that van. He was luckier still that the van had not gained much speed when he fled. Otherwise, the damage would have been worse. Those words all went in one ear and out the other as Stiles stood there, covered in soot and grime as a doctor wrapped his wrist, having had to remove the original cast to reset the bone. He had nothing else but a splint and the bandaging to use; but, Stiles really did not care. “Talia has been reached,” Stiles vaguely heard someone say. “As has the other camps. We do not know numbers of who made it out of town yet. We're leaving in the morning.”

 

Stiles' gaze snapped up then, looking over to the man who stood in the doorway. He had piercing blue eyes and walked as though he carried a great weight on his shoulders. Stiles had seen the man around town, but had no idea who he was. “We can't leave,” replied Stiles, his voice unsteady and scratchy. “Derek...”

 

His doctor frowned a little as he looked over to the man in the doorway. “Alex, go check the supplies for me,” the doctor stated, the man's name Stiles did not know. “Stiles... that is your name, yes?” Stiles nodded slowly looking from the doorway the other man, Alex, had disappeared through over to the doctor. “We cannot stay here long. The hunters _will_ follow us. We're only a few miles outside of Beacon Hills. I am sure that this Derek will be fine; but, we cannot wait for him. You understand this?”

 

“I can't _leave_ him,” insisted Stiles, shaking his head several times despite the fact it only made his head pound. “I can't. I left, a-and...”

 

“Stiles. It is important that we all get to safety. This place is not that safe, but merely a resting point. There are others at other points and I’m sure Derek knows them all, if this boy you're so worried about is Talia's son.” Stiles nodded slowly and the doctor smiled in a reassuring manner that the teen wished he could believe. “I know you're worried, we all have loved ones we're worried about. My sister...” The man let out a heavy breath, his eyes lowering for a moment before he seemed to shrug it off and he looked back to Stiles. “There are still people trailing into the different camps, slowly and trying to draw as little attention as possible. Perhaps he will show before we leave.”

 

“Malachi,” Alex said, sounding out of breath as he came rushing back into the room. “We need you downstairs. Someone's bleeding out everywhere.”

 

Stiles' doctor quickly stood up at that, giving Stiles another reassuring smile before he swept out of the room after Alex to do his job. Stiles just sat there numbly, not quite sure what to think or what to do with himself. He felt as though he would be sick; and, he almost hoped if he closed his eyes tightly enough, when he'd open them again he'd wake back up in his own living room with Derek smiling at him. He knew it would not happen, though, and simply forced himself to keep breathing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I got word from one of the other camps,” Talia told Scott and the others as she sat down on one of the make-shift chairs at their camp. “Stiles is okay; but, he was alone. A friend of mine found him on the street. I don't know anything past that. Communication is to be minimal.”

 

Isaac frowned as he sat pressed against Jackson’s side, his blue eyes darting around at their friends as everyone took in the information their alpha was giving them. Stiles was okay. Nobody knew anything about Linden, Melissa, or Derek. None of them had any word on Danny, Ethan, Erica, or Boyd, either. They were not the only ones in the dark on how others were, by what Isaac could hear. People were crying, holding on to hands of injured loved ones, asking if anyone had seen someone, or just staring blankly at the wall. Everyone was in different states of disarray; and, Isaac knew with a terrible pang in his chest, that the rest of their lives would never be the same.

 

The evening was filled with helping the injured and gathering all the supplies they could from their stopping point. They would be leaving come first light, heading further north past the border into Canada where allies were waiting to help. Alan Deaton was already almost there, having gone ahead to make sure they truly would have a safe passage. From what Isaac gathered, there were several different safe-haven camps surrounding Beacon Hills. He held out hope that their friends had found their way to one of the others.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I can't get a signal,” a voice in the other room said, making Derek’s brow furrow where he lay. That made no sense at all to him. What signal could the person be looking for? “No word from any of the others.”

 

What others? Derek could not quite wrap his mind around it. It did not make any sense. The last thing he remembered was trying to help John and Melissa from... something. It was... fire. There was a fire. _Stiles_! Derek sat up quickly with a gasp as his breath seemed to catch in his chest. He could not keep from coughing as it hurt to even breathe. “Derek, here,” he heard a warm, familiar voice say to his left before he was handed a bottle of water, which he drank from thankfully before looking up to see Melissa standing there.

 

There was ash smeared on her face, along with what looked like blood. Her hair was tied back with what looked like a rubber band, and a few pieces continued to fall into her face. “What happened?” questioned Derek, his voice causing his throat to burn even more.

 

“Shh. Rest your voice, Derek. You inhaled a lot of smoke.” Melissa had as well, if her own raspy voice was anything to go by. She looked tired, as if she might collapse at any moment; but, still she stood there, carefully looking over a long gash on Derek’s arm. “You had us worried there for a little while. That was a stupid stunt, Derek. You shouldn't have come in for us.”

 

“You would have died.” Derek frowned a little at that thought, looking from Melissa to the closed door of the room and back again. “Where are we?”

 

“A stopping point.” Melissa nodded and sat down on the edge of his bed then, letting out a tired sigh. “John's with some of the others, trying to decide what will be the safest route to get us out of here.” Derek nodded a little, glad to hear that the sheriff was okay as well, though his heart constricted a little as he thought about it more. Stiles. Where was Stiles, and was he okay? Derek had no way of knowing, and if the saddened expression on Melissa’s face was any indication, she felt the same fears he did. “There's supposed to be comms between the camps, a way for us to keep in touch; but, ours are down. We don't... we don't know who has made it to any of the other camps or what the plan is.”

 

Derek nodded as he looked down to where his hands were shaking in his lap, taking a deep and steadying breath that did not hurt as much as the one before. Derek looked up at Melissa without fully lifting his head when she placed a hand on the teen's shoulder and said, “We'll find Stiles, Derek.”

 

“What if he didn't get away?” questioned the teen tiredly, quietly despite the fact he could already hear the damage to his throat and lungs slowly healing.

 

“Stiles is too stubborn for him to not have gotten out of there. We'll see him again.”

 

Derek let out a heavy breath, nodding as he did. He knew he should take comfort in Melissa’s words, they held some truth to them after all. He cold not help but worry, though, that his last words to Stiles would be _I'll come find you_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles sat quietly in one of the rooms of the cabin he was in, staring off to a point on the floor as he tried not to think too much on any one thing. He hurt physically and emotionally, and he had no way of dealing with either. He was tired, but could not sleep. There were murmurs of directions to take and roads to follow all around him. They would have to walk, to keep away from roads and known paths. Cars were too risky. Cities would have to be avoided. All supplies they might need would have to be carried. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he sat there, attempting to tune it all out. He thought, for a moment, that he heard Derek’s voice saying his name, and the teen's head quickly snapped up. Derek was nowhere to be seen, though, and Stiles swore silently to himself as he ran a tired hand over his face.

 

“You should rest,” Alex said carefully, as if he was worried that speaking to Stiles would be offensive or something. “Tomorrow's a long day.”

 

“Can't,” Stiles mumbled in response, shaking his head a little as he shifted in his seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. “So... what're you?”

 

Alex’s brow rose at that, an amused smile tugging faintly on his lips at Stiles' abrupt change of topic and attempt at distraction. “I'm a hunter.” Stiles sat up a little straighter at that, his every instinct to run or to punch Alex in the face. How could a _hunter_ be in their camp? How could one of the others let that happen? Alex did not seem surprised by Stiles' quick response, and he did not move, even as Malachi came up behind him and dropped a kiss to the top of his head, which only served to make Alex smile brightly.

 

“Don't traumatize the kid,” stated Malachi as he moved to sit in the chair next to Alex, resting his arm on the man's shoulder with a smile. “Alex's family has never followed the usual code. They tend to stick to actually _protecting_ people instead of going after anything that isn't human. Believe it or not, there are those families out there.” Alex closed his eyes with a slight shrug of his shoulders as Malachi started to run his fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.

 

Stiles slowly seemed to relax and Malachi smiled in the teen's direction. “You're safe here, Stiles.” _At least for now_ went unspoken, though they all heard it.

 

“So, what are _you_?” questioned Stiles after several long moments, idly wetting his lips as he glanced around at the others that surrounded the room. There were werewolves and other shifters in the room, along with a few people Stiles could tell were some kind of supernatural being without knowing exactly what they were. He still had so much to learn about all of it.

 

Malachi chuckled at that, flashing a bright grin at Stiles once more as he said, “Me? I’m just a doctor.”

 

Stiles' brow lifted at that, finding a vague similarity in the way his doctor spoke and the way that he had heard Scott's boss insist that he was _just a veterinarian_. Just a veterinarian his ass; Deaton had performed some kind of mojo on him in the past to help him heal. That wasn't _just_ anything. However, he did not press the issue with Malachi, only seeing how tired the other man really was when Alex leaned over and said something quietly in the man's ear that made him nod slowly, sinking down a little more in his chair. Malachi smiled a little, however, even as Alex got up with a gentle squeeze of the doctor's hand before disappearing into the crowd of the room, seemingly searching for someone.

 

With a tired sigh of his own, Malachi ran both hands through his hair several times, making the dark strands nearly stand on end. “I am truly sorry, Stiles,” the man said after several quiet moments passed between them. “You are much too young to be caught up in this war. I had hoped that none of us would ever see it, but... I guess, from now on, everything's going to change.”

 


	17. Arc II, Two: The Travelers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the different camps are moving on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so SO sorry it's taken me so long to update. Real life has taken over and completely destroyed my muse and energy. Work and personal life have both been very difficult lately. I'm going to try really hard to update fairly regularly, though!

Isaac sighed inaudibly as he leaned into Jackson's side more. Their camp had stopped for the evening, and everyone around them was talking. There was even some laughter and smiles. There was _happiness_ and Isaac could not shake the feeling of something being missing. He knew what was missing. They did not know where half of their friends were, if all of them were okay. It had been a week, and still nobody had heard anything of Derek, Melissa, or John. They had heard from Stiles once in the time that they had been moving, but Isaac still worried about his friend. Stiles was hurt, apparently, but in good care if what Talia believed was true. Isaac certainly hoped so. He sighed inaudibly once again, closing his eyes as he continued to let Jackson hold him close. While there was still a part of him that wanted nothing more than to pull away from any and all touch, he would much rather be pressed in close to Jackson's side than to potentially get too close to any of the strangers all around them. At least with Jackson, he could remind himself several times over that his boyfriend would _not_ hurt him.

 

“Should get some sleep,” Jackson insisted quietly after several long minutes, pressing a kiss to the top of Isaac's head. “I'm gonna take watch with Allison.”

 

Isaac said nothing, but pressed in even closer to Jackson's side, wrapping both arms tightly around the teen's waist. Jackson chuckled a little and made no motions to pull away from Isaac. He simply continued to sit there, idly running a hand along Isaac's arm in a soothing manner planning on just sitting there until Allison came to grab him. However, she never came after having seen the two of them sitting together, knowing that Isaac needed someone familiar there. So, she had grabbed Cora instead.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“How're you feeling, kiddo?” John Stilinski asked as he sat down next to Derek, who sat near their camp's nightly fire. It was kept low that evening, blocked by tents in hopes of shielding themselves even more from anyone that might have been following.

 

Derek shrugged his shoulders a little, idly poking at the food that was balanced on his legs. He was worried about his family, about Stiles; but, that was all stuff that John knew already. He felt no need to repeat any of it, especially when John _knew_. He had only recently found out that it could be months, _months_ until they heard or saw anyone that they knew. While their own group would be reaching their destination in a matter of a few days, not all the groups would be. “Be prepared for the worst,” one of their companions had told Derek earlier as they had walked along. “None of us may see our families again.”

 

It had not hit him until that moment that the guy was right. There was a chance that he may never see his pack again. The thought caused his stomach to tighten uncomfortably and he set aside his plate, unable to even attempt to eat any more. “I hate them,” Derek said after a moment, making John look over toward him with a slightly furrowed brow. “Victoria and her followers. I might never see my family again, and it's her fault.” Derek scowled as he crossed both his arms over his middle, resting his arms on his legs. “Why do they hate us so much?”

 

John sighed softly and shook his head as he reached over to gently squeeze Derek's shoulder. “There's always been something, some reason for people to turn against one another. Skin color, religion, money... It's not right, and I don't know _why_ it is,” the man said with another shake of his head. “Fear makes people do terrible things.”

 

Derek had to bite his tongue to keep from getting mad at John, finding that the man sounded as though he was excusing what was going on. However, Derek knew John Stilinski well enough to know that the man was _not_ excusing the behavior, not forgiving and not forgetting. He was just doing what he could to try to rationalize behavior that he could not wrap his mind around. Accepting people who were different came as easy as breathing to the ex-sheriff of Beacon Hills. He never could understand how other people could not do the same. “They're going to be okay, kid,” John insisted after several more moments, managing a small smile in the teen's direction. “Stiles is... stubborn, resourceful. Your mother will take care of anybody with them. We'll all be together again. Just watch.”

 

Derek smiled slightly, then, nodding his head though he could not help but wonder _when_. It was the when part that was killing him, and Derek sighed as he shifted his fingers through his hair several times before both his and John's attention were pulled off to the right where someone let out a shout of, “They're coming!”

 

“Hunters,” John stated as he stood up, pulling a handgun out from the back of his jeans where it had been stashed quite thoughtlessly. Derek quickly got to his feet, staying close to John's side with a flash of gold eyes.

 

Then, in a matter of moments, there were gunshots ringing out and Derek could hear the cries of those that had gotten hit. There were terrible growls and snarls in the air, shouting of getting the kids out of there, and strategic orders. “Derek, find Melissa and protect her!” John insisted, speaking over the noise of the fighting around them, though they both knew that Melissa was more than capable of defending herself. John would simply feel better knowing that the two of them were together. Derek opened his mouth a few times, seemingly wanting to argue; but, when a werewolf fell to the ground next to him causing both of them to jump a little, the teen nodded and quickly set out to find Melissa.

 

She was kneeling on the ground near the back of the camp, tightening a belt around the leg of a human member of the camp that had gotten shot. “Melissa!” Derek called as he ran up to her. He was almost at her side when he was suddenly knocked over to the right and crying out as a burning pain made its way up along the entire left side of his body. He was vaguely aware of Melissa shouting his name as he found the sound of his own heartbeat and breathing drowned out most everything else. He could smell the dirt, the trees, blood, gunpowder, and _wolfsbane_. Everything around him seemed to spin, and Derek slowly lost focus of everything as he crumpled to the ground.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Several hundred miles in the other direction, Stiles was dropping down with a groan onto a fallen log as he rubbed the shoulder of his injured arm. He knew he was pushing himself too hard with the training he had taken up with Alex as the caravan made their way farther and farther away from Beacon Hills. He needed something to do with his time, though, or he would sit there and dwell on the things that he did not know. In just the short time they had been making their zig-zagging way to the north, Stiles had learned a lot. He could more than hold his own should the hunters catch up with them. He was getting especially good with throwing knives, even though he was not using his dominant hand, and Alex was sure that Stiles would be good with a bow and arrow whenever he would be healed enough to use it. Stiles' preferred weapon was a blade, though. “You alright, kiddo?” questioned Malachi as he sat down next to Stiles, offering the teen a bottle of water.

 

“Fine,” was the teen's curt answer, though Malachi did not seem to take any offense by it. No further words were passed between the two as they sat there, and Stiles opened the water to take several drinks. He closed his eyes after a moment with a heavy sigh before looking up to the canopy of trees that separated them from the stars. “Any word on... anything?”

 

“No.” Malachi shook his head, idly wetting his lips as he kept his gaze on the people moving around the camp, passing out food to those who wanted it. “We've no idea what's going on outside our camp, or if we're making good time. We don't think the hunters are following us, though.”

 

“Not yet, anyway.” Stiles frowned as he lowered his gaze, ignoring the worried expression that crossed Malachi's face. “It's only a matter of time.”

 

“Kid...” Malachi sighed, cutting off when Stiles simply shook his head and stood up to cross the camp over to where Alex stood talking to one of their lookouts whose shift had just ended. Malachi guessed he could not blame the kid for being cynical, but he could also not help but hold out hope himself. Hope that everything would be okay, that they would stay safe, that he would be reunited with his siblings once they reached their final destination. Were it not for the fact that they were not heading directly to their refugee camp, they would have reached it already. However, Talia and Laura had come up with a brilliant plan to create random routes for each group, hoping to throw off anyone that might be trailing after. Some camps' paths would take them longer to reach the safe camp than others, and Malachi honestly was not sure which group he was with, as he was really just following, not making any of the decisions for the camp.

 

They'd picked up a few strays along the way, people that were leaving their homes already in anticipation of what might happen soon enough. A few of them were kids Stiles' age, and Malachi had hoped that Stiles might take to spending some time with them, in attempting to be a normal teenager in all of this. However, Stiles seemed determined to simply learn as much as he could from Alex. In a way, Malachi was glad for that too, however. It gave Alex something to focus on, to keep his mind from wandering too much to what could be happening to their families, who were all in different camps. Plus, he had to admit that he enjoyed seeing his fiance take on a mentor role with someone who seemed to want to learn anything that Alex could teach him. In all the chaos and all the death around them, those were the small things, they were what made everything as okay as they could be in the situation. It did not counter anything, but it was a light in the darkness.

 

It was something Malachi believed that they all needed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Derek had not remained unconscious for very long, and he had helped Melissa fight off some hunters that were threatening her. She had not really needed his help, as they all knew she could take care of herself, but it was still appreciated. After the hunters were either taken care of or run off, the camp had packed up and moved, though Derek was finding it harder and harder to do so as the wolfsbane in his system kept working through. “We've got to stop,” Melissa told John as she took Derek's arm to steady him. They hadn't had time to worry about any of that in their rush to find a new location, so that the hunters would not simply circle back around and catch them off guard.

 

John nodded once and pressed a kiss to Melissa's cheek before going to talk to those that were in charge of their camp. Several moments later, the camp was stopping to take care of Derek and the others that had wolfsbane in their systems. He sat on a rock as Melissa worked on first removing the bullet that was embedded into his side. After that, she would use the counteractive wolfsbane from ammo that they had pulled off of the hunters before leaving to press into the wound while a few others were helping the rest of the injured werewolves. “Fuck,” Derek swore under his breath, inhaling sharply at the pain that coursed through his body while Melissa worked, attempting not to cry out as she did

 

“Sorry, kiddo,” she said with a frown before using a white gauze bandage to tape over the wound. She knew that Derek would begin healing soon enough, but until then, they did need to keep it clean. “There. All finished.”

 

“Thanks, Melissa,” sighed Derek, managing a weak smile in her direction. He felt tired, cold, and he was pretty sure he was still shaking a little. He was not sure how long things would last the way they were; but, something told him as he silently looked around the camp, that he may never get back to a life as simple as it had been before.

 


	18. Arc II, Three: Routines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, real life is a pain in the butt and making it so that updates are very difficult. After rewatching bb!Derek on TW, though, I was inspired to write up this chapter really quick, so I hope you enjoy. It really is rather short and I apologize all over again that updates are slow. Please don't give up, though, as I am trying to get updates up on all my stories!

It was bright, brighter than Stiles could remember any day ever being before. It made the world around him seem kind of hazy. It fit the tired, slow feeling the day had, though, and Stiles did not think much of it as he continued to lay in the grass. There was a light breeze rustling the sea of green around him, making the otherwise warm sun feel very comfortable. He had his arms crossed behind his head, and felt as though he could spend hours just laying there. It was perfect. “You're going to get a sunburn,” he heard from somewhere off to his right, and Stiles could not help the smile that tugged on his lips though his eyes remained closed.

 

He knew that voice anywhere. Stiles slowly blinked his eyes open to get used to the brightness once again before looking to where Derek stood a few yards away with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a shadow of stubble on his face, and his eyes looked more tired than when Stiles had seen him last. It made Stiles' brow furrow a little. Was what he seeing a memory or simply just a dream? It seemed to be a mix of the two, he guessed, as the more he thought about it the more he realized that Derek looked nothing like he had on the day that the two of them had actually spent lazing about in the Hales' backyard. “This is a dream,” Stiles stated with a frown, the words coming out as a statement instead of the question he had tried for.

 

“Probably.” Derek looked saddened at his own answer, though the expression on his face only lasted a few moments.

 

“You said you'd come find me.” There was an accusation to his tone, one that he hadn't intended but could not keep back no matter how hard he tried. He wanted to get up, to go over and hit Derek on the shoulder or to pull him into a hug; but, no matter how much he wanted to, he could not bring himself to move.

 

Derek seemed to struggle, his brow creasing for a few moments, then returning to normal only to crease once again before he sighed and said, “I know. I will.”

 

“It's been months.” Stiles ignored the way that his words stuck in his throat, and the way that his chest tightened painfully. It was ridiculous, getting so worked up over a flimsy promise made from someone he'd only been dating a relatively short while. Yet, there he was, clinging to the hope that Derek would still find him, that they'd be able to be together again one day.

 

A sudden sound to his left made him jump and he groaned when it caused his elbow to hit something hard next to him as he woke up on the floor of an abandoned school that they were camping out in for the time being. They still had not made it to the safe location, despite the fact that they'd been on the run for months. Stiles was beginning to give up what little hope he had left that he'd ever see any of the Hale Pack again, or his family.

 

He had a nice little pseudo-family with Malachi and Alex, but that was not the same. “Sorry,” Alex said from where he had set down a bottle of water to Stiles' left. “Time to get up, kid. You and I are going scouting.”

 

Stiles was quick to get up after that, tugging on the jeans he'd discarded with little thought the night before over boxers that he knew were dirty but had not had the time to wash yet. Modesty was not really something their camp had much space for anymore. Several members of the camp could turn into full-formed wolves, after all, and they always returned to human completely naked. It was just a fact of life and no longer something that even registered to any of them. Sure, they avoided _staring_ but they did not completely avoid looking at one another just because clothing was not always on.

 

Once he was dressed, he did take a minute to quickly wash up with some of the water set aside to do just that before grabbing his favorite blades, a bow that he'd taken a liking to, along with a small thing of arrows. He and Alex waved a quick goodbye to Malachi from across the camp before they quietly slipped out of the ranks without drawing attention, going on ahead to figure out just what direction they should head next, and if there were any hunters along the way.

 

They moved quickly and quietly, ducking through the trees that were beginning to blossom and bloom, their colors building as the cold weather gave way to more warm temperatures. He should have been graduating sometime soon, at least he thought so if his math was correct. Instead, he was darting between trees, keeping an eye out for any signs of danger, completely ignoring the old newspaper he stepped on that had a headline detailing the all out war that finally broke out in the aftermath of the attack on Beacon Hills. The fear of the supernatural was spreading, not just into South America from the Calaveras but across to Europe and Asia as well. They only had bits and pieces of information, but it had lead to a rather lively conversation between Stiles, Alex, and Malachi about whether or not the royal family were werewolves (Stiles insisted that they were).

 

The two of them had only been gone a couple hours before Stiles crouched low to the ground, stilling his steps as quickly as he could without making much noise when he caught sight of Alex suddenly stopping and signaling for him to do so. Stiles trained his breathing to remain slow and steady as he slowly readied himself with the bow he'd grabbed, notching an arrow as he made a step forward so that he could attempt to see what it was that Alex had seen. There were muffled voices that Stiles strained to hear but could not catch word of and he saw a few men in dark clothing looking at a map that one of them held out to look at.

 

Stiles glanced over at Alex out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out if his friend got any weird vibe from the whole thing like he did. He tensed immediately, though, when a second later there was the sound of a gun cocking just behind his head. “Didn't your mothers ever teach you that it's  _ rude _ to sneak up on people?” the person behind Stiles asked, a hint of amusement in her voice that caused Stiles to, if possible, tense even more. “Well, well, what do we have here? Two lost lambs, it seems. You look as though you've been laying with the  _ dogs _ .”

 

Stiles did not even have to look to see the smirk on the woman's face, but he did roll his eyes at how clever the woman thought that she was. “Didn't  _ your _ mother ever teach you to play nicely with others?” Malachi said as he crossed his arms over his chest, standing several hundred yards behind the woman, making her spin around to face him, instinctively firing a shot. Stiles barely had time to turn and watch as their favored doctor seemed to just blink slowly in a bored manner, and the teen  _ swore _ that the bullet seemed to simply curve enough that it whizzed right by his face. “You've got to work on your aim, darling.”

 

After that, everything blurred together as there was a mix of gunshots and arrows being launched and Malachi standing there looking completely unperturbed as everything just seemed to happen around him while not a single hair on his head fell out of place, even as he stepped aside to bypass a man that attempted to physically tackle him. “Careful shots, Stiles! Don't waste arrows,” Alex called out a reminder to the teen amidst ducking a punch being thrown at his face before he seemingly effortlessly took down the man that tried to take him on. Alex did not even have the decency to seem out of breath as he straightened up and tugged on the front of his shirt to get it to set back in place properly.

 

“How the bloody hell are you two even real?” Stiles all but groaned when they successfully rendered the last hunter in the party unconscious on the ground.

 

Malachi simply shot him a charming smile while smoothing the strands of his dark hair back into place. Alex chuckled breathlessly, finally acting as though he'd even just been fighting for his life, while Stiles was sure he looked like hell. “Come on,” Malachi said after a moment, eyeing one of the hunters laying near his feet warily. “Let's get back to the camp before this lot wakes up. I'm sure our fearless leader is beginning to think you two got yourselves caught up in traps again.”

 

“That was one time!” exclaimed Stiles petulantly as he gathered a few of his arrows before rushing over to catch up with the other two. “Besides, we found Liam in that hole, so I take that as a win?”

 

“Speaking of,” Alex stated in his soft but steady voice that Stiles had grown to enjoy listening to, “how is the pup?”

 

“Better.” Stiles nodded absently, frowning a little when he thought back to the state that they'd found the young beta in. He made a mental note to check in on Liam when they got back to the camp, feeling bad for having left him alone for so long.

 

Meanwhile, several hundred miles away, Derek Hale sighed as he looked over the building schematics rolled out on the table in front of him. Outside the tent he was in, he could hear the sounds of other people milling about while waiting to head out on the mission assigned to them. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, wishing that he was better at the whole schematic thing in the first place. Stiles would be able to make sense of it easier. Derek looked over his shoulder at the sound of the doorflap being moved aside to see Scott coming inside with a dopey grin on his look that proved to Derek that he had just been somewhere with Allison. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

 

Derek's camp had finally reached the predetermined safe location where his mother and the others were a month or two before. There had been several tear-filled reunions from Melissa, the sheriff, and Scott to Derek and his own family. “Stiles isn't with you?” Scott had asked after a few moments of checking over his parents' shoulders to see if he could catch sight of his brother. The question had felt like a punch to the stomach to Derek, and to that day he could feel it still when he thought about the other teen.

 

“So, what's the plan?” Scott asked, clearing his throat a little while attempting to focus more on the mission at hand than whatever had been going on minutes before. 

 

Derek sighed and ran a hand over his face before beginning to explain to Scott just what he thought their best routes for a quick, easy, casualty-free entry and exit would be. It was strange, sometimes, to think that he should have been planning on what to bring to college in the fall, instead of who to bring on a rescue mission that had been assigned to him. All of that seemed like so long ago, like something that would never again come to be with the way the world was falling apart. “We'll head out at sundown,” Derek stated, nodding slightly when Scott agreed with him. “Usual team?”

 

“Usual team,” agreed Scott with a nod before he turned to leave the tent and inform the others just who would be heading out on the mission, and who would be staying behind to guard their temporary base and provide assistance from a distance if needed.

 

A part of Derek hated just how easily it was to fall into a sense of familiarity when dealing with war between hunters and the supernatural world. It felt as though nothing was out of the normal anymore, and that saddened him greatly. He wanted nothing more than to be worried about making a fool of himself at prom with Stiles, and deciding which person he should actually share a dorm with on campus. Those were the things he'd been looking forward to several months ago, and things that would never come to light, no matter how much he might wish that things could go back to the way things were. If he was completely honest, though, he would give all that up all over again, if only he could have Stiles there with him once more.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Clarity - A Fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045509) by [sourwulfur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwulfur/pseuds/sourwulfur)




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